


we are made of starstuff

by GoldenTruth813



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Character Study, Childhood Memories, De-Aged Shiro (Voltron), Dealing with past trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, First Time, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Implied Switching, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Monsters & Mana (Voltron), Not Epilogue Compliant, Not Season/Series 08 Compliant, POV Shiro (Voltron), Pining, Playful Sex, Post-Canon, Teenage Rebellion, Top Keith (Voltron), Virgin Keith (Voltron), happiness, heavy on the comfort, kitchen experiments gone wrong, letting go, shiro gets diagnosed with an incurable case of horniness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 72,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21872989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Shiro is struggling to adjust to post-war life at the Garrison, including a new figurehead role he finds boring and tedious, and deep feelings for Keith he’s doing his best to ignore and control without risking their friendship, when a mishap with an alien plant turns his world upside down. Finding himself de-aged and in Keith’s care, Shiro shares the story of his life with the one person who means more to him than anyone.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 207
Kudos: 374
Collections: Sheith Big Bang 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been a labor of love for 5 months and I cannot believe I finally get to post it. 
> 
> Thank you H & R for listening to me ramble for months about this as i plotted and wrote and thank you whiskyandwildflowers & TDcats for the incredible beta job you're both amazing.
> 
> The art in this fic was done by Nemo and you can see it in this story below at the end of chapter 5 or [here](https://twitter.com/SiqueiroScribbl/status/1208072305705934849).
> 
> There is also amazing art from Keirokama [here](https://twitter.com/goldentruth813/status/1268578773009494016).

Shiro tapped his fingers across the top of the meeting table, only dimly aware of the hum of voices around him. He’d tuned them out at least twenty minutes before when they’d started talking about their suspicions of the toilet paper in the senior officers’ quarters being replaced by a lower ply-count and had barely been listening since. He’d been in the meeting for close to an hour now, and while the beginning of it had been informative—touching on important intergalactic customs to be aware of in anticipation of the dignitaries visiting from Themis Colony next month—things had rapidly taken a turn for the mundane and begun to test Shiro’s patience. A discussion on the proper food to serve for the welcoming dinner had somehow turned into bickering over who had switched the brand of coffee stocked in the officers’ break room and whether or not the budget would allow for something besides individual bags of peanuts in the snack pantry and snack-size candy bars. The toilet paper had been the last straw, and Shiro had snagged his datapad and hoped everyone would assume he was taking notes and not trying to beat his own high score at solitaire.

Truthfully Shiro was grateful life had reached a point where the biggest issue on his plate was the quality of coffee and nuts available to him, but he was also exhausted from not sleeping well and annoyed that the meeting agenda was being disregarded. Shiro could handle long hours/ He could handle backbreaking work. He could handle being needed. He could not handle being stuck in a pointless meeting twiddling his thumbs and feeling bored and useless. There was too much time to think—too much time alone with thoughts that were better left pushed away.

He turned his focus back to the table long enough to try to catch what it was they had begun to talk about, almost immediately ignoring the conversation once more as it shifted onto other ridiculous budget-related issues including the ratio of laundry detergent being used on the Garrison-issued sheets. Shiro picked up his datapad once more and swiped across his screen to unlock it. Immediately he pulled up his communication link with Keith and stared at the blinking red dot in the corner— _offline_. Unbidden a smile tugged at his lips as he pulled up their secure communications log and scrolled through weeks’ worth of bad jokes, a rare selfie Keith had sent him in front of a solar flare, and enough baby animal videos that Keith continued to pretend he’d found by accident despite being on limited communications access.

The last message he’d sent to Keith—a video of a deer following around a duckling—showed as read thirty-nine hours before, but there was still no response. Not that Shiro thought his silly video was worthy of much response, especially since he knew Keith was busy with something important, but he hoped that if Keith had gotten a chance to watch it that at least it had made him smile. No matter how much Shiro knew he couldn’t expect steady communication off planet, he missed Keith’s response—always so serious and deadpan with his short answers even when he was amused. 

More than just his messages, he missed his presence. Keith rarely went off planet for this long anymore, and Shiro felt his absence acutely.

He missed the way Keith was always waiting in their early morning meetings with a jumbo hot cocoa despite hating mornings even more than Shiro. He missed the way Keith would kick Shiro under the table when he caught Shiro playing with flight simulations on his datapad during meetings. He missed knowing that no matter how horrendously long and tedious his week might be he always had weekends off base for a movie or a burger in town with Keith to look forward to. He even missed the way Keith would cheekily wink at him from across the movie theater or diner when he caught someone asking for Shiro’s autograph, the smartass.Then again Shiro had a photo of Keith’s shocked face the first time someone had asked for _his_ autograph—a lucky shot caught by Lance that was not printed and framed and proudly hanging on the wall in his office, so he supposed he didn’t have a lot of room to talk.

Shiro continued scrolling through their chat logs back to a video Keith had sent him last month, double checking that his sound was off before hitting play. He recalled that specific Tuesday all too well. It was the day Shiro had volunteered to help cover another officer’s lecture and been forced to miss out on his day off with Keith. It was also the day Keith had apparently figured out a way to attach his datapad to Kosmo’s collar. The video was shaky and horrible quality but the look in Keith’s eyes as he gave the camera a cheeky grin and hollered _“I’d beat you if you were here”_ before speeding away on his hoverbike was picture perfect.

If Shiro closed his eyes he could almost taste the dust on his tongue and the echo of Keith’s laughter in the desert.

God he missed him. He missed Keith.

Keith. His best friend. His _everything_. Well, almost everything. Sometimes he had to stop and remind himself that they were only friends and that was enough. Anything Keith wanted to give Shiro was enough. It had to be. They’d fought so hard for this second chance at life Shiro wasn’t going to ruin it all by wanting more than he should. 

After months spent acting on behalf of the Garrison, no longer as paladins fighting a war but figureheads spearheading peace talks, they had finally begun to see seeds of change blossoming on the horizon. Not that Shiro had truly been a paladin for a long time. After miraculously returning from the astral plane without a real place with the paladins and without his connection to Black, he’d proceeded blindly, telling himself that he could still contribute and make a difference, although he didn’t always believe it. Over time he’d fallen back in with the team. It’d been into a role that felt more political than action driven, but the sense of purpose had been rewarding. Shiro had been grateful for the chance to make a difference and busy himself even if he sometimes felt as if he were drowning. 

Months spent convincing the leaders of their worlds to make peace with the leaders of other nations and universes had taken longer than even he could have ever expected. Long sleepless nights and even longer days were filled with uncertainty as they all faced a world that was supposed to be safe but sometimes felt anything but. The path to restoring peace and stability had taken longer than even Shiro could have predicted, but eventually they’d reached the place where that stability was the norm, not the uncertainty. 

Admittedly the peace between galaxies was sometimes rocky, the stability often fragile, but it was there just the same—taking the shape of the future they all deserved and forming the foundation for a world where alien and human life could coexist in harmony. 

Through every upheaval or stumble as he fought for his place once more, his team had been there—Keith especially. Every time Shiro felt lost, Keith had guided him back. In the dark Keith had been his light, and in the sadness he had been his laughter.

Keith, who had taken Shiro’s temporary death harder than even Shiro had. Keith, who seemed ready to search down the grim reaper and fight him himself if he came anywhere near Shiro ever again. Keith, who joined Shiro on his midnight strolls around the Garrison when he couldn’t sleep and somehow always managed to snag Shiro the last bowl of mac and cheese from the cafeteria when Shiro worked through meal times. 

Keith was always there with a hand on Shiro’s shoulder and his unwavering faith in Shiro as he stood beside him—his literal and figurative right hand. Over time, what had at the beginning seemed nearly impossible had become inevitable. A future— _their future_ —had begun to blossom as bright and beautiful as the dawn of a new day. Everything seemed full of hope and possibility. 

He had his best friend by his side. Wanting more than that was testing fate. He already had so much more than he should have. The world was safe. They were safe. 

Somewhere along the line while Shiro had been working hard to convince the world that they could have a future, he had convinced himself. Shiro had begun to dream of things he’d never allowed himself to hope for; time to grow old, a career, love—Keith. 

Keith had already given him so much. Shiro was selfish for wanting more.

Sometimes in his most private moments Shiro let himself daydream about a world where Keith returned his feelings, let himself get carried away with the meaning behind Keith’s kindness and friendship. There would be a tenderness in Keith’s eyes when he looked at Shiro as if he were his entire world—a hopeful kind of hesitance when his touch lingered on Shiro’s shoulder or at his back—that made Shiro’s heart race. Eventually, though, reality always crashed back into Shiro as Keith’s words echoed in his mind like a brand— _you’re my brother_. Shame and guilt flooded Shiro during those times.

Keith was the one thing in Shiro’s life that he knew he could never bear to lose. Keith had been there before Kerberos back when Shiro thought he could do anything, and later when Shiro felt as if he could do nothing. He was the one person who had always made him feel as if he were a little less broken. Keith’s friendship and loyalty had given him strength when he’d been unsure he could muster the courage to walk on shaky legs that should’ve never been his. As grateful as Shiro had been for a second chance at life, there had been so many times where he’d felt as if he’d come back _wrong_ somehow. He had memories that weren’t his and a body as well. Everything felt different and unfamiliar. Except Keith who looked at him as if he were the same man he’d been before life had cut him down.

Slowly, Shiro had begun to see himself the same way Keith saw him. Along the way he’d come to realize that it wasn’t just the way he saw himself that had changed while he’d been in the astral plane, but the way he saw Keith. Except there wasn’t a whole lot of time to examine his mess of feelings when as soon as he’d been returned to consciousness there was still an intergalactic war to fight and worlds to save. His own wants had seemed inconsequential in the face of what the entire galaxy needed. So he did what any good soldier did and pushed them away. Shiro was no stranger to pushing away the things he felt, and this was no different.

_I love you,_ Keith had said. _I love you, you’re my brother_.

The words echoed in Shiro’s head every time his hope got bigger than his fear. 

The line between life and death felt less terrifying than the line between friendship and something more.

He’d never dared to ask Keith what exactly he meant after he’d said those words on the platform. He’d been too overwhelmed just by breathing—by just being _alive_. Having a corporeal form after nearly a year of being nothing more than a consciousness untethered to the real world, then suddenly being shoved into a body that was never meant to be his had been more overwhelming than being dead. It’d taken every ounce of courage he possessed to simply keep waking up every day, there’d been none left to question what exactly Keith meant by _brother_.

They’d never talked about any of it—skirting around the subject the same way they skirted around the three unspoken words between them.

Shiro loved Keith—every version of Shiro loved him. He didn’t need to pinpoint how or when his feelings had shifted from something platonic to something more. All he needed to know was that they had and that those feelings were dangerous. Shiro had wanted too much once in his life, and it had nearly cost him everything. He didn’t want to make that same mistake again.

He had a second chance at life, and he wanted to spend that with Keith in any way he could.

It was crazy to think that after spending his entire life living with a ticking time bomb in his veins, his clock had been reset.

Shiro had spent so long in survival mode that he’d never stopped to think what he might do if he actually _survived_.

His life now was good. Great. He had more than he ever could’ve dreamed of as a child. He’d been to space and back, was a respected pilot, and had a group of friends who felt like family. If he sometimes felt a bone-deep loneliness that made his soul ache, well, that was something to ignore. He had more than enough, more than a lot of people, and he knew he should be grateful for what he had and not what he didn’t. Though he’d endured dark days, he had come out on the other side. His life was full. Most days were dull and tedious now, but he accepted that as part of his new reality. Besides, he got to see Keith almost every day. Everything was better with Keith.

_Keith_. 

Keith who had been gone for ten days on a diplomatic peacekeeping mission to try and get the reclusive Drokvol to join their alliance. Ten days. He’d only been gone ten days and somehow it felt like an eternity. In the grand scheme of things Shiro knew it wasn’t actually that long. Ten days could pass by in blink of an eye. He and Keith had been separated much longer many times, but it felt different now. Even all this time later, Shiro still found that his experience in the astral plane had altered his perception of time. It’d made his life feel both infinite and fleeting all at once. Sometimes, he stopped and thought about all the things he’d lived through—his disease, his dream of space exploration realized, captivity, war—and felt as if he’d lived a million lifetimes. Other times he thought of all the things he still wanted from his life—the hopes and dreams he held for himself and for the universe—and he felt as if he’d barely lived at all.

At the center of each of those hopes and dreams was Keith—guiding him forward like Shiro’s very own North Star. Shiro had spent his entire life dreaming of the stars, so it seemed fitting that he fell in love with the boy with stars in his eyes. _Love_. He loved Keith. There was no denying that, even if he had no intentions of doing anything about his feelings. He loved Keith in every way he knew how. 

Keith was everything, and Shiro knew with unflinching certainty he would spend the rest of his life making sure that Keith got the life he wanted—the life he deserved—even if that ended up being without Shiro. He would make the world safer, make the world a place—a place that deserved someone like Keith.

An emergency alert flashed across Shiro’s datapad distracting him from his wandering thoughts— _Private Transmission: Pidge Holt_. Shiro placed his thumb into the bottom corner of his screen watching as his fingerprint was scanned and the message was unlocked. It was a set of coordinates and a flight plan with today’s date. It took Shiro several seconds to realize it wasn’t Pidge’s data but rather a copy of someone else’s incoming message thatPidge must have intercepted. A very specific someone.

Keith was home.

***

“Afternoon, Captain.”

Shiro stalled—freshly polished boots squeaking on the tile floor—as he straightened his shoulders and turned around to see who had addressed him. He’d hoped at this time of day he would have been able to sneak out of this wing of the Garrison unnoticed, but apparently he wasn’t that lucky.

“Afternoon, Cadet.” He tried and failed to recall the name of the young man in front of him then stifled a groan. _Young man._ God sometimes he felt so old. He seriously needed to play hooky and do something _fun_ if his first thought at seeing a cadet in the hallways was _young man_. It’d been too long since he and Keith had enough free time to do something fun, and it was clearly getting to him.

“I was wondering if I might be able to talk to you about a letter of recommendation, Sir,” he said. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hands across his legs. 

Shiro smiled in a way he hoped wasn’t as forced as it felt as he finally placed him as the cadet who’d slept through the lecture he’d given at the beginning of the year on the effects of intergalactic travel on the psyche. If he wasn’t mistaken he was also the same cadet Shiro had seen puking his guts out after winning a burger eating contest last month at the diner down the street. Then again Shiro had been off the clock and about to enjoy a chocolate milkshake with Keith so he’d been doing his best to ignore the rowdy group of cadets in the corner.

“For what exactly, Cadet?” Shiro was proud of himself for managing to hide his own surprise. Or at least he hoped he had. Even nearly a year after rejoining the Garrison it still sometimes surprised him to be on the other end of this type of inquiry. Some days Shiro felt at least twice his age, but other times it felt like only yesterday he’d been the one nervously reaching out to his superiors and begging for the opportunity to prove himself worthy of going to space. He recalled all too well the type of hope and apprehension that came with seeking out this type of recommendation from a senior officer.

“I’m applying for the Caelestis mission.”

“That’s an incredibly intensive mission. You’d be off terra for over two years, and then three months of quarantine once you return. Are you fully prepared for the physical and mental strength a mission of that caliber that would require?”

To his credit, despite looking like he wanted to throw up, he remained at attention. “Yes. Absolutely, Sir.” 

“Right,” Shiro said, unable to ignore the tug of camaraderie he felt at the undisguised hope on the cadet’s face, “well, come and see me next week and we can discuss this further.”

“Thank you, Sir. You won’t regret this, Sir,” the cadet blurted, tripping over his feet as he shuffled backward with a final salute and a smile. 

Shiro waited until the cadet had disappeared around the corner, double checking he was alone before he took off at a full run down the long hallway towards the door at the end which led outside to the landing pad—to where he knew Keith was, or would be soon. He’d been in such a rush to get out of his meeting and to Keith once he’d got the message from Pidge that it wasn’t until he was halfway across the Garrison that he realized he’d forgotten to check the time stamp on the messages. Which meant Shiro had no idea if Keith was already back or if he might be facing the next few hours melting into the concrete as the blinding midday sun beat down on him.

He pushed open the door and the answer became obvious.

Immediately his eyes honed in on a small cruiser in the distance as it entered the Garrison’s restricted airspace. He stepped through the doorway, lifting his hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he watched the cruiser glide across the sky and do one last unnecessary but impressive twist before it began its descent. Definitely Keith.

There was an effortless grace in the way Keith handled himself in the air or on the ground—a confidence that couldn’t be taught. Even if Shiro hadn’t recognized the cruiser as soon as it got close enough, he would have recognized Keith’s flying anywhere. Shiro crossed the landing strip with his eyes upturned, watching as the cruiser touched down, gliding across the pavement before Keith pulled it into a dead stop directly in the center of the docking station and just a few feet from Shiro. 

It was a perfect landing—the kind of landing Shiro would have used as a teaching example when he filled in for the Intro to Piloting class—and his chest fluttered with pride and affection. Keith was an incredible pilot who deserved to have his skills and abilities recognized and to be given the opportunity to fly through the air with the kind of freedom Shiro knew Keith craved.

The windows on the cruiser were too tinted to see Keith properly, but Shiro could perfectly imagine the look of pride that was probably spreading across Keith’s face—the same look he always got when he knew he’d made a good landing. Then again, every landing was perfect when Keith was in the pilot seat. Keith was as naturally gifted in the air behind the navigation as he was on the ground behind the wheel, and it always left Shiro a little breathless watching him fly.

Shiro circled halfway around the cruiser, stopping when he was beside the left wing. With bated breath he watched as the back hatch opened, sunlight spilling into the darkened cargo bay as the door extended to reveal Keith standing atop the ramp.

Uncaring if he looked too eager, Shiro strode up the ramp and met Keith halfway, grinning as Keith pulled off his helmet to reveal a mass of hair sticking up in every direction and his small ponytail halfway undone. There were beads of sweat along his hairline and the bridge of his nose looked windburned from the harsh alien climate. Most noticeable was the smile blooming across his face—the undeniable pleasure and surprise written there that made Shiro shift onto his heels.

“Shiro, you’re here.”

“Good to see you too, Keith.”

Then Shiro did what felt like the most natural thing in the world and pulled Keith into a hug. Keith let out an ooph of surprise, the helmet falling from his hands and clanking loudly as it rolled down the ramp and presumably landed somewhere on the asphalt. Shiro promised himself he’d help Keith find it. Later. For now he was too pleased to have Keith back in the same atmosphere. 

Unlike their usual clap on the shoulder and quick embrace, this time Shiro pulled Keith in for the full experience—letting both his arms wrap around Keith’s trim waist as he accidentally lifted Keith’s feet an inch or so into the air in his attempt to pull him closer. If Keith minded the intense welcome back he said nothing, merely giving Shiro an equally firm squeeze back. Even through Keith’s flight suit, Shiro could feel the thud of Keith’s strong heartbeat—the steady thrum of it making his own heart beat faster.

“Miss me that much, old timer?” Keith said with a laugh that sent a shiver down Shiro’s spine as Keith’s warm breath ghosted across the side of his neck. There was a soothing timbre to Keith’s voice, and not unlike the first time he’d heard it after returning to his new body did he feel overwhelmed by the intensity of his own reaction. He’d once thought his body’s inclination to feel on high alert around Keith was due to some sort of sensory deprivation. It’d taken him months to realize that while he might have been sensitive to sounds, smells and touches, nothing in the world set his body alive the way it did when any of that stimuli came from Keith.

Now was no different, and though it’d been less than two weeks since he’d last seen him, his return had Shiro’s heart racing faster than the speed of light.

“Gets boring around here without you,” Shiro said, which wasn’t far off from the truth even if it wasn’t half of what Shiro really wanted to say. There was plenty around the Garrison to keep him busy, but nothing that kept him happy the way Keith did.

Though Keith made no move to loosen the embrace, Shiro found himself clearing his throat as he lowered Keith’s feet back onto the metal ramp beneath them and dropped his arms to his sides, cognizant of the way he’d been clinging to Keith. 

“It’s really good to have you back.”

Keith swiped a hand through his hair and chewed on his cheek, appearing to be fighting off a smile. “S’good to be back.”

“So how was your trip? Tell me everything.”

Keith licked his lips, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “By everything what you really mean is did I sneak back any Aviarian Bombe?”

Shiro gasped in mock shock. Truthfully he wasn’t surprised in the least. Sometimes he wondered if Keith could read his mind. Then he thought of all the thoughts left unsaid about Keith in his own brain and was grateful he couldn’t read minds. 

“You wound me, Keith. I care about more than just food. Besides, hypothetically if anyone on a Garrison sanctioned trip happened to acquire any alien delicacies he would required under statue 17, clause 3 to declare them and send them through inspection before he would be allowed to take possession of them once more.” Shiro was unable to repress his frown at that, imagining the way the officers who worked in inspection and quarantine would be required to inspect, scan, and smash the delicate alien pastry. Shiro had eaten them twice, both while running peacekeeping missions with Keith, and he could still taste the flaky crust and sugar on his tongue. Most alien food left much to be desired, but that one in particular left Shiro with nothing but desire.

“You’re right. It would be absolutely forbidden for anyone on a Garrison sanctioned mission to purchase Aviarian Bombe on their way home and then knowingly bring it back to Earth without following containment protocol. Unless it wasn’t a _person who brought it back_. Unless it was say, a space wolf who wasn’t technically legally bound by either earth or space laws.”

Keith popped two fingers into his mouth and let out a loud whistle. In the blink of an eye Kosmo appeared beside Keith with a small bag tied around his neck.

“Keith, what did you do?” Shiro asked, feeling a bit like he used to when his grandmother would wake up extra early on weekends to make him okayu. His mouth was already watering. Keith really, really shouldn’t have. He also really, really hoped he had.

“I told you, _I_ didn’t do anything. Kosmo on the other hand appears to have brought you something back from the Neo colony. Good boy, Kosmo.” He scratched behind the wolf’s ears and Kosmo pressed his massive head into Keith’s palm with a happy yelp.

With deft fingers Keith untied the bag then held it to Shiro, who ripped the top open and peered inside to find three perfectly shaped little buns of deliciousness. They were supposed to be in the shape of a Yugu and were a horrible shade of gray. In other words they were some of the ugliest things Shiro had ever seen, but Shiro knew the truth—they were almost the most delicious things in all the universe. Well, after macaroni and cheese.

“I love you so much,” Shiro blurted out without thinking, his cheeks heating at the way Keith’s ears went pink. Shiro’s stomach fluttered and his breathing quickened as he reached in and pulled a pastry out, taking a massive bite before he accidentally said something else that might make Keith uncomfortable like _I love you so much it scares me_ or In all the galaxies I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you or worse still _It makes me feel good when you take care of me._. 

“Thank you,” Shiro mumbled as he licked the dusting of sugar off his bottom lip, eyes turned downward. Warmth spread across his cheeks when he looked up to find he was being watched—a hot flush running through his body. He probably looked like he hadn’t eaten in a week with the way he was devouring the sweets, so no wonder Keith was staring.

“It was nothing,” Keith insisted, reaching up to fidget with his hair. He yanked the hair tie out and Shiro nearly choked on his mouth full of food as Keith shook his hair loose.

Shiro had barely finished chewing his last bite when he took another one just to keep his mouth occupied and stop himself from saying something embarrassing as he watched Keith’s long fingers work through a knot before tugging the longest hairs at the back into a messy half ponytail. Several stray hairs and a mess of fringe still fell down around his eyes, highlighting his sharp jawline and cheekbones. Shiro felt certain only Keith could make something that haphazard look so perfect.

Shiro wondered if Keith hand managed to get prettier in space or if perhaps Shiro had just gotten more pathetic on Earth.

“Want one?” Shiro asked, tilting the open bag towards Keith.

“Nah, I’m good. You enjoy that,” Keith said with a grin. He looked immensely pleased when Shiro shrugged and pulled out another. They wouldn’t taste as good later, and Shiro was absolutely starving. Not that he wanted to let Keith know it was the fifth morning in a row he’d forgotten to eat breakfast. It was just that the only thing that usually got Shiro to remember to go into the cafeteria before work was the promise of seeing Keith. Without him there Shiro didn’t usually remember to eat until his hunger threatened to gnaw a hole in his stomach. 

It wasn’t until Shiro was halfway done with the second one that he remembered they were still standing in the middle of the ramp.

“You probably want to get inside and get changed, huh?” He took a step back to begin his descent when Keith stretched out a hand and grabbed ahold of his bicep.

“No, we should stay here. You uh…you’re not done eating.” Keith loosed his grip on Shiro’s arm but didn’t release it, his next words teasing. “Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble, _Sir_. You’ve got a reputation to uphold. For some reason everyone here seems to thinks you’re a rule follower. They don’t know what a rebel you really are.”

Shiro laughed. “Look who’s talking, Kogane.”

“Excuse me, we were not talking about me. Between you and me, you’re definitely the bad influence in this scenario. Besides, given the choice between filling in post-flight paperwork or spending time with you, I’d always pick you. That’s not even a contest.”

Shiro snorted, unable to hide his amusement but doing his best to hide the way Keith’s last few words made him feel. “So long as you’re sure you wouldn’t rather go get something to eat or have a shower.”

“No, I’d definitely rather stay with you,” Keith said in a tone that left no room for Shiro to question him. That was one of the things Shiro appreciated most about being with Keith—he always said exactly what he meant. Of course that was also what made Shiro’s feelings harder to deal with most days since he felt pretty certain if Keith’s feelings had ever been more romantic in nature he would’ve told Shiro. He told Shiro everything. He never held anything back. 

Shiro swallowed down the words on his tongue, the want bubbling up in his chest. Sometimes the things that almost came out of his mouth when he was around Keith terrified him. It was so easy to be himself around Keith that all the things he worked so hard to bury threatened to come to the surface—truths that were too much for Shiro to bear and would’ve been unfair to put on Keith. 

“I missed you, Shiro,” Keith said, squeezing his arm softly before dropping his hand.

“I missed you too, Keith.”

***

“What the hell is this?” Shiro asked, picking up a strange oblong thing. It was dark blue and had spiked ridges and felt as heavy as a meteorite. He rolled it between his hands, the stone cold against his palms.

He and Keith had been sorting the boxes of gifts—or junk as Keith liked to call it—in the back of Keith’s cruiser for the last half hour. His diplomatic mission had gone well, exceedingly well. Which was great, except for the piles upon piles of gifts the Drokvol had sent back with Keith as tokens of their thanks and goodwill. Eventually all of these items needed to be cataloged by the Garrison and likely put into storage, but for now he and Keith were passing the time trying to figure out what most of it was.

“I’m pretty sure it’s an alien sex toy,” Keith answered flippantly.

Shiro choked on his own spit, dropping the object as if he’d been burned. It hit the ground with a thud and rolled towards Keith.

“Oh my god your face,” Keith laughed loudly, his mirth echoing off the metal walls.

“Oh fuck you,” Shiro said, embarrassment warming his cheeks. 

Keith grinned, reaching out to pick up the sex toy before holding it in front of Shiro’s face and shaking it as he waggled one eyebrow. He looked absolutely ridiculous, and Shiro pushed his hand away and stuck his tongue out at Keith feeling juvenile and not caring. 

“God your face,” Keith laughed again, chucking the offending object into the box beside him. “I wish I had a camera.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hilarious,” Shiro grumbled. He was still embarrassed, but it was worth it to see Keith so happy.

“I still can’t believe they sent so much stuff.” Keith had pulled a new box between his long legs, rummaging around inside. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they agreed to join the coalition. I just didn’t realize they’d send so much junk.”

Shiro’s gut reaction was to disagree, especially since he knew the gifts were indicative of how well Keith’s mission to the Drokvol were. He felt certain they were trying to show they saw value in the coalition with Earth, which had been the main goal of Keith’s mission. Except it was impossible to disagree when every item Keith held up looked more useless than the last. Shiro didn’t have a clue what most of it was. 

“I mean…it’s the thought that counts,” Shiro offered, trying not to laugh at the unamused look on Keith’s face. He’d never had been any good at hiding his feelings, and this was no different. Luckily, the only one there to bear witness to Keith’s true feelings was Shiro.

“That’s only what people say when the gifts are horrible.” He held up something that looked remarkably like a door knocker, and Shiro felt forced to admit that Keith’s estimation of the items wasn’t far off.

“Probably,” Shiro agreed, eyeing the piles of junk surrounding them. “Is that everything then?”

“Uh, I think so,” Keith said, pushing the last box away and rubbing his hands on his pants.

Shiro tried not to frown. If they were done that meant they needed to get back to the Garrison. With no more gifts to go through and no more Aviarian Bombe to eat they didn’t have any more excuses to stay hidden away in the back of Keith’s cruiser ignoring their responsibilities. Not that Shiro thought he needed excuses to spend time with Keith since they spent most of their time together already. It was hard sometimes not to feel as if he monopolized all of Keith’s time. 

There were days Shiro wanted him all to himself, days he had no desire to have to share Keith with the world. Shiro didn’t like to think of himself as a selfish person, but he was selfish with Keith. 

Keith’s selflessness and loyalty was endless, and Shiro lived in constant fear of wanting more from Keith than Keith wanted to give. He tried not to think about it too much, though. There were a lot of things he tried not to think about.

“I guess we should get back then,” Shiro grudgingly suggested, rising to stand.

Keith pursed his lips and nodded. “Probably. We can leave this mess to the cadets to catalog and sort.”

“See, a natural born leader. Great at delegating,” Shiro teased, earning him a middle finger and a playful shove. A shove that Shiro wasn’t expecting and caused him to topple sideways and step on a fucking alien sex toy, which sent him crashing into the metal shelves lining the wall before falling to the floor as the contents of the shelf fell down on his head.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry!” Keith yelled, immediately dropping to his knees. He ran his hands over Shiro’s legs and up his sides, patting his chest and eventually resting on hand over Shiro’s heart almost as if he were monitoring the beat. He wondered if Keith could feel the way he made Shiro’s heart race. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Keith,” Shiro said, though without much protest. The only thing hurt was his ego, though he couldn’t say he minded looking stupid too much if it got Keith’s hands on him. As soon as he had the thought, a wave of guilt engulfed him. There he went again wanting too much. 

“Maybe you should go to the med bay,” Keith said, using his other hand to push back the hair at the front of Shiro’s head before pressing his palm against his forehead.

Shiro closed his eyes and repressed a shudder at the feeling of Keith’s chilled fingers against his skin. “I’m fine, Keith. I promise.”

Keith tutted as if he didn’t quite believe him, but dropped his hands. “Alright, if you say so.”

Shiro cleared his throat and forced his eyes open. He wasn’t going to convince Keith he was fine if he kept acting like that. “We should probably clean this stuff up.”

“Yeah, probably.” Keith grimaced, surveying the upturned boxes of stuff they’d spent the last hour going through and repacking.

“We’ll do it together. It’ll go by in no time,” Shiro told him, stretching out a hand.

Keith nodded, reaching out immediately to clasp Shiro’s hand and help him to his feet. “Together.”

Shiro let his hand linger longer than was necessary in Keith’s grip, instinctively memorizing the strength in his fingers and the warmth in his skin. Keith said nothing, gifting Shiro a smile when he finally pulled his hand away.

“Why does it look like twice as much like this?” Keith sighed.

“Everything seems more overwhelming before you break it down. You take the boxes here over on the left,” Shiro instructed, waving his hand back and forth to make an imaginary line, “and I’ll take everything on the other side.”

“Yes, Sir,” Keith said with a mock salute.

“Smartass,” Shiro barked, ignoring the all too familiar thrill that shot through him at being called Sir in Keith’s smooth voice. It absolutely should not have been arousing, but Shiro had long ago accepted that he was pathetically gone on Keith and even his dirty laundry thrown on the floor or his disgusting habit of drinking his coffee black were things Shiro found endearing. Then again endearing wasn’t exactly the right way to describe the feelings pooling low in Shiro’s belly at the word _Sir._

Shiro’s ears buzzed as he ducked his head, grateful Keith had already busied himself with filling a box of junk and was too busy to notice Shiro’s cheeks turning red.

Barely able to concentrate, Shiro began to mindlessly shove things into his own boxes. It was a monotonous job, and he haphazardly filed and stacked each box until all he had left was one single empty box and a small array of items scattered around his feet and the base of the shelves. He squatted down to get the last few odds and ends—a pretty hair brush, several antique books and scrolls in a language Shiro didn’t know how to read, and an upturned plant. With a small frown Shiro tipped the plant back up, carefully scooping the soil into his palm and pouring it back into the pot before picking it up.

Unlike most of the native flora and fauna in the Neo colony, this plant was incredibly plain— nothing but a single green stem sticking out of the dirt in a fairly ordinary white pot. Compared to the rest of the gaudy and elaborate gifts the Drokvol had sent this one seemed, well, plain. Then again Shiro knew better than anyone you couldn’t always judge something—plant or person—by their appearance.

Shiro turned, intending to ask Keith if he knew anything about the plant which they had both somehow missed the first go around but stopped dead at the sight before him. Keith was holding up an embroidered tunic—bright red with edges of fine gold thread—and he blushed when he caught Shiro watching him, immediately shoving the garment into the box in front of him. Something tight in Shiro’s chest twisted.

Every moment spent with Keith felt like a gift, and there was never enough time. He wanted to wake up next to him and fall asleep with him and everything in between. He wanted to share the future—whatever it might hold—with his best friend and the one person in the world he loved above all others. 

He liked Keith so much it left a visceral ache in his chest. 

“Shiro.”

He wanted Keith. He wanted to know every single thing about Keith. Even the stupid little things that not even best friends were supposed to know like whether Keith had any hidden freckles or what side of the bed he slept on.

“ _Shiro._ ”

More than just that, he wanted Keith to know him too. To _really_ know him. Certainly Keith knew him better than anyone else alive, but there were still things Shiro kept buried, things Shiro didn’t even want to know about himself. As crazy as it might have been, he thought he wanted Keith to know those things too.

Shiro had never lied to Keith, but he’d certainly withheld truths.

“Shiro!”

Shiro jumped, lifting his gaze to Keith whose eyes were wide. Wide and uncertain. “What?”

“You should probably put that down,” Keith warned, voice calm despite the noticeable tension in his body. He was staring at Shiro’s hands with a look of undisguised apprehension.

Shiro looked down and it was only then that he realized the plan he’d been holding was no longer a sparse single stalk of green but a blooming flower—ornate and delicate looking with a multitude of purple petals. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen, and without thinking, he reached out to stroke his finger along the edge of a petal.

“Shiro, please.” 

“’I’m fine, Keith. It’s just a flower,” he whispered, too mesmerized by the tiny gold sparks shooting out of the center of the flower. It looked like something out of a dream. On some level Shiro was aware that it was not a good idea to keep touching alien objects like this, especially not when you felt an unnatural pull to them. Unfortunately Shiro was too far gone to pay attention to the logical part of his brain and instead let the tip of his finger poke the center of the flower.

“I would feel a lot better if you could just put down the magical glowing flower which we know nothing about and which could be potentially dangerous,” Keith implored, his voice far less calm this time.

“I’m—” but Shiro never got the chance to finish.

His vision swam and his limbs went heavy. Before he could cry out for help—for Keith—the plant was falling from his hands and to the floor in a crash that sent soil and shattered pottery flying.

The last thing he saw was Keith’s panicked face before the world went black.

***

Shiro dreamt.

He dreamt of wide open skies and galaxies not out of reach. 

He dreamt of hoverbike races under the fading afternoon sun and warm arms holding him close in the darkest of nights. 

He dreamt of someone holding his hand, begging him to wake up and promising to keep him safe, unaware it wasn’t a dream at all.

When he awoke he remembered none of his dreams.

When he awoke he remembered nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Shiro was cold. That was the first thing he noticed when he woke up. Cold and really hungry.

He cracked open an eye and stared at the ceiling with a frown. His glowing stars were missing and it was dark. Really dark. He rolled onto his side looked around the room, his tummy feeling funny when he realized that he wasn’t in his bed at home. He was in the hospital. Again. 

He didn’t remember waking up Baba or Jiji because he hurt or either of them driving him there, but that’d been happening a lot more lately. Last month Shiro had gone to the hospital three times. He knew it was three times because each time they gave him a sticker, and Shiro had the stickers in his special box at home. He liked the stickers. He hated the hospital. The sheets were always itchy and the televisions never played the cartoons Shiro wanted to watch and the food was yucky. Except the jello. Shiro liked the jello.

Shiro’s tummy rumbled again and he sat up straighter. There was a clock on the side table but Shiro didn’t know how to tell time yet. He was pretty sure it was the middle of the night, though, since the only light in the room was coming from the open door across the room, which Shiro thought was probably a bathroom. 

Shiro didn’t want to bother anyone, especially if Baba and Jiji were tired, but he was really hungry.

Except, as he looked around the room Shiro noticed Baba and Jiji weren’t there. In fact the only person in the room was a man. A man with dark hair and a face Shiro didn’t recognize, slumped over in the chair at the foot of Shiro’s bed. He didn’t look like a doctor. Doctors usually wore white coats and a stethoscope. This man didn’t have either. 

Shiro pushed off the sheet covering his feet, his legs getting stuck in the massive hospital gown he was wearing as he quietly scooted himself down the edge of the bed to get a closer look at the stranger.

The man was definitely a grown-up. But not a grown-up like his Baba or Jiji. He was younger. A lot younger. More like a daddy. Maybe he was someone’s daddy and he’d gone to the wrong room. Shiro wondered if he should wake him up and check. He was about to poke him then pulled his hand back. Most grown-ups got pretty cranky when you woke them up. Shiro didn’t like when people were mad at him.

Maybe Baba had gone to get him something to eat. She usually had snacks for Shiro in her big purse, but sometimes she forgot and had to steal all the change that jingled in Jiji’s pockets to get him something from the vending machine. Shiro liked when she forgot because it usually meant he got something yummy Baba wouldn’t keep at home like Poptarts or chips. 

The man in the chair made a grunting sound in his sleep, his arm slipping off his knee to hang off the side of the chair. He didn’t look comfy.

Shiro wondered if the man knew where Baba and Jiji were. He really wanted them.

He chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds before scooting all the way to the edge of the bed. He grabbed onto the metal bar at the end so he didn’t fall out then leaned forward as far as he could and poked the man in the knee. He didn’t flinch.

Shiro looked around the room, and his eyes landed on a pen on the table next to his bed. He crawled over and grabbed it before returning to the end of the bed and repeating his action, except this time he used the end of the pen to poke the man in the face. The pen left a small black mark on his cheek and Shiro felt a little guilty because he’d probably poked him a bit too hard. It worked, though.

The man’s eyes flew open, but before he could ask him if he knew where Shiro’s grandparents were the man had leapt from his chair, knocking it over with a loud clatter that made Shiro jump. Then he noticed Shiro and his mouth fell open. It was a little bit funny, but Shiro was too hungry and tired to laugh. The man kept staring. It made Shiro feel very small and very nervous but Shiro was brave. His Baba always told him that, so he knew it was true. Baba never lied.

“Have you seen Baba or Jiji?” he asked, proud of himself for not crying. He was a big boy now. He wasn't going to cry. Except he did kind of wish he had his teddy bear. Usually Jiji brought it for him in case he got scared at night when he and Baba had to go back home, but he didn’t see it anywhere.

“ _Shiro_?” the man whispered. He looked kinda scared, which didn’t make sense. Grown-ups were never scared.

“How come you know my name? Have you seen my grandparents?” Shiro asked, his bottom lip beginning to tremble. He hoped the man didn’t notice. He might think Shiro was a baby, and Shiro was not a baby.

“Oh my god. Shit. What is happening?”

Shiro didn’t know what the man was talking about, but he was starting to get a little bit scared. He just wanted Baba and Jiji and his teddy bear and maybe a warm glass of milk. 

“I wanna go home,” Shiro whispered, scooting back on the hospital bed until his back hit the wall.

“Shiro, it’s okay. You’re safe,” the man said, walking closer. He was holding a hand up and smiling but Shiro didn’t know him, and everything was different.

He didn’t feel okay. He didn’t feel safe.

Shiro hoped it was okay for big boys to cry.

***

“We don’t have a single explanation. All of his stats are good. We’ve run extensive diagnostic tests, and he appears to be perfectly healthy aside from, well—” the doctor stopped mid-sentence, looking at Shiro and offering him a smile before lowering her voice, “well, aside from the obvious, which is that he has two fully functional human arms again.”

Shiro looked down at his arms and frowned. Of course he had human arms.

“ _This_ is perfectly healthy,” the man—Keith was what he’d called himself—hissed at the doctor. He looked pretty grumpy. Shiro still wasn’t sure if Keith was mad that Shiro had woken him up or not. He said he wasn’t, but sometimes grown-ups lied, well ones that weren’t Baba and Jiji anyay. Keith sure seemed angry about being awake. So far he’d been really nice to Shiro, but every time a new doctor came in or someone in a funny uniform he sounded angry. Especially when he talked about Shiro when he thought he wasn’t listening. 

“I understand your concern, we’re all concerned about Mr. Shirogane but—”

“What’s wrong with Jiji?” Shiro interrupted. He knew grown-ups hated being interrupted, but they were talking about his grandpa and Shiro wanted to know if he was okay.

“What do you mean?” Keith asked, immediately turning his attention on Shiro. 

Shiro fidgeted with the bedsheet in his lap, poking his finger through the small hole in the corner. “You said Mr. Shirogane. That’s my Jiji. Is he okay? Can I see him?”

“Oh,” Keith breathed. “Your Jiji isn’t here right now, little buddy. But he’s…he’s fine.”

Shiro didn’t understand. “Then why are you talking about him?”

“We weren’t speaking about your grandfather,” the doctor said, earning him another death glare from Keith. Maybe Keith hated doctors too. “We were talking about you, Mr. Shirogane.”

Keith made a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl and Shiro frowned. Grown-ups were really weird sometimes.

He watched with curiosity as Keith leaned in close to the doctor and began to whisper to her in a voice too quiet for Shiro to understand more than a few words. He could only pick up bits of what they were saying, things like _only a child_ and _vulnerable_. Shiro was just glad Keith wasn’t talking to him with that tone of voice. He was a little bit scary when he was mad.

The doctor didn’t look very happy about talking to Keith either. She started to make a funny face. She reminded Shiro of his Baba every time she talked to the doctors when she took Shiro. People always looked unhappy when they talked about him. Eventually she began to tap away at her datapad before leaving the room in a hurry.

Then it was only Shiro and Keith. Shiro still really wished he had his teddy bear.

“Hey there, buddy. How are you feeling?” Keith sat down at the foot of Shiro’s bed and smiled.

Shiro shrugged. “Where’s Baba and Jiji?”

Keith looked upset again. “They’re not here. But I’m here and I’ll stay with you, okay? I promise I won’t ever let you be alone.”

Keith was a stranger but he seemed nice. Shiro liked his hair. He’d never seen a boy with long hair. It was so cool.

“Okay.”

“Are you hungry?”

Shiro nodded. “Do you have macaroni and cheese?”

Keith laughed. “I see some things haven’t changed.”

Shiro didn’t know what Keith was talking about, but he was laughing and that was nice. Shiro liked when people were happy.

After what felt like forever, but what Keith insisted was only twenty minutes, Shiro had a giant bowl of macaroni and cheese and _two_ cups of jello. Red jello. Red was Shiro’s favorite color of jello. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if it was cherry or strawberry, but it was still the best flavor.

“If I eat it all can I have more?” Shiro asked before shoving the food into his mouth. Usually Baba told him to eat slowly, but she wasn’t here and Shiro was really hungry.

“You can have anything you want, buddy.”

“Can I have a rocket ship?” Shiro had asked Santa for one last year but all he’d got was a LEGO one. “A real one. Not a model or LEGOS. Like a _real_ one that flies.”

Shiro took another bite. This macaroni and cheese was way better than the stuff the other hospital usually gave him. It had extra cheese in it, and Shiro hadn’t even told Keith he liked extra cheese. He must’ve been really smart.

“What exactly do you need a real rocket ship for?” Keith asked. 

Shiro chewed his food as fast as he could. Jiji always told him it was rude to talk with his mouth full.

“To go to the moon,” he answered once he’d swallowed his bite. “When I grow up I’m gonna go to space and build a house on the moon.”

“The moon, huh?” 

Shiro nodded. “I like the moon.”

“I like the moon too.”

“Does that mean I can have a rocket ship?” he asked. Keith wasn’t saying yes, but he wasn’t saying no.

“We’ll see.”

Shiro frowned. _We’ll see_ was almost always grown-up code for no. Maybe he’d gone too big.

“Can I have ice cream?”

“I’m pretty sure I could get you some ice cream. Rainbow sherbet with melted peanut butter?”

Shiro gasped. “That’s my favorite! How did you know?”

Keith kind of looked like he was gonna cry. “Lucky guess, little dude.”

“Do you like it too? Baba says it’s yucky.”

“I’m more of a vanilla ice cream kind of guy,” Keith told him.

Shiro wrinkled his nose. “That’s boring.”

Keith laughed again. “That’s what you always—I mean, uh…I have a friend who tells me the same thing. He eats really gross combinations of ice cream. I once saw him eat mint chocolate chip ice cream with marshmallow cream.” 

Keith shuddered dramatically and Shiro laughed. Keith was funny.

“Can I have a dog?” Shiro blurted as he tried to scoop up more macaroni and cheese. It was probably too big of a bite because globs kept falling off the edge of his spoon, but he kept trying anyway.

“A dog, huh?”

Shiro nodded. 

“I didn’t know you wanted a dog when you were little.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a stranger,” Shiro told him.

Keith rubbed his cheek. “Oh, right. I mean…I’m not exactly a stranger. We know each other now. We can be friends.”

“I like friends.”

“You have a lot of friends?” Keith asked.

Shiro licked the cheese off his spoon and shrugged. “Baba and Jiji are my friends.”

“What about kids?” Keith asked.

Shiro shrugged thinking about the kids in his class. “Charlie is my friend and Liz too. But I don’t like Jeffery. He makes fun of me because I don’t have a mommy and daddy.”

Keith made a funny choking noise sort of like chicken. “I didn’t have a mommy or daddy when I was little either.”

Shiro stared. He’d never met anyone else who didn't have a mommy and daddy. “Did yours die too?”

Keith leaned his elbows on his knees and sighed. “My dad did, yeah. I’ve got my mom now, though. She’s really cool. I bet you’d like her, and I know she would like you.”

“Can I meet her?” Shiro asked. He liked meeting new people. 

“She’s not here right now, buddy. She’s on a trip, and it’s pretty far away. But maybe one day you can meet her.”

“What’s she like?” he asked.

“She’s…amazing. She’s really strong and smart, and she’s good at making people feel safe.” Keith smiled. Shiro wondered if his Keith’s mommy looked like him.

“I wish I had a mommy,” Shiro said, reaching for his jello cup. “But don’t tell Baba or Jiji I said so. It makes them sad.”

Keith got a funny look on his face. It reminded Shiro of the way Baba and Jiji looked when they brought out the photo album of Shiro as a baby with his mommy and daddy. Shiro liked the pictures. His daddy kind of looked like him, and his mommy had a pretty smile. But then Baba always cried. Shiro hated when people cried.

“Do you miss them?”

Shiro shook his head, digging his spoon into the jello. “I don’t remember them. But mommies seem nice.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. “Mommies are nice.”

***

Shiro was bored. Really bored.

“Can we leave?” Shiro asked, crossing his legs. He was tired of sitting in the hospital bed. He’d been there forever and ever. Sitting was so boring.

“Not yet, little dude. Sorry. The doctors want you to stay here for just a little bit longer.”

“Why?” 

Keith puffed up his cheeks with air and then blew out a breath. “They just wanna make sure you’re okay. That’s all. Then we can leave.”

“But I’m fine,” Shiro said. To prove his point he stretched out his legs and kicked them on the bed really fast, knocking his pillow and blanket to the floor. Then he stood up on the bed and jumped a few times. “See. I’m really strong, and I’m a good jumper.”

Keith laughed, holding out one of his arms to block the edge of the bed, but Shiro knew he wasn’t gonna fall. He was the world’s best jumper.

“Amazing,” Keith said. 

Shiro puffed out his chest with pride. He liked being the best at things.

“Watch me!” Shiro jumped higher.

“So high,” Keith agreed.

“I can go even higher,” he told him. He jumped higher. The bed made a lot of squeaky noises, the metal sides rattling as Shiro jumped high enough that the mattress began to move beneath him. Keith was still watching him with a smile and Shiro got a really good idea. Then without warning, he launched himself off the bed and directly at Keith who had risen from his chair and was standing at Shiro’s bedside.

“Whoa,” Keith exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Shiro and catching him easily.

Shiro laughed, pleased Keith had caught him. Sometimes Jiji got upset when Shiro did that without asking, but Jiji was old. Keith wasn’t old, and he didn’t look upset. 

“Was that cool?” Shiro asked, wrapping his arms and legs around Keith’s like a monkey. He didn’t want Keith to put him down. He was tired of being in the bed.

“It was indeed very cool,” Keith agreed, hefting Shiro onto his hip easily.

“You’re super strong,” Shiro observed. His Baba could carry him but not like this.

“You’re pretty small.”

Shiro huffed. “I’m not small! I’m big!”

Keith made a funny face again almost like he was gonna laugh but didn’t wanna. “My mistake. You are very big.”

“Big and strong,” Shiro corrected.

“Yes, the biggest and the strongest and the best at everything.”

Shiro smiled, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “Can we—”

He was interrupted by two loud knocks on the door, and then it was opening. Shiro snapped his mouth shut, tightening his hold on Keith when a lady he’d never seen walked into his room. She had long white hair and funny makeup on her cheeks and was wearing a pretty pink dress. She looked like a princess. She definitely wasn’t a doctor.

“I came as soon as I heard. I’m only sorry it took me so long. We were two clicks away when Coran was able to pick up your message. Luckily it was just a matter of configuring a wormhole and making our apologies to the Qhuv’ek and then coming back.” 

Shiro wasn’t sure who she was talking to.

“I’m just glad you got our message, Allura. We weren’t sure if it would reach you before you entered hyperspace.”

Shiro darted his head back and forth between them in confusion. They sounded like they were in one of the television shows Jiji liked to watch after Shiro went to bed. 

The woman walked closer, her shoes clacking noisily on the floor. She was looking at Shiro this time instead of Keith, but she was looking at him really weird like he was an alien. It made Shiro’s tummy feel funny.

“Oh my,” she whispered, getting even closer. A little bit too close. “Your message said as much, but I must admit I did not quite believe you. This is remarkable. And he’s really a child.”

Shiro looked around the room for another child but didn’t see any. That meant they must have been talking about him. Shiro hated it when grown-ups talked about him like he wasn’t there.

“Yeah, they’re not sure how old he is but—”

“I’m five!” Shiro yelled. Baba said it was rude to interrupt people when they were talking, but sometimes it was hard to remember when he got excited. Besides Shiro knew how old he was. He was a big boy.

“Oh,” Keith said, rubbing Shiro’s back. “Guess we should have just asked you, huh?”

Shiro pressed his face into Keith’s neck when he noticed the lady was still staring at him.

“He’s quite small for five Earth years. Are young humans always so modest in size or is he particularly miniature?”

Shiro kind of wanted to stick his tongue out at this lady, but he knew that was rude too so he didn’t. He frowned, though. A lot.

“I’m not miniature,” he told her, not changing his expression.

“Oh dear,” she said. “My deepest apologies, Shiro. Of course you’re not. You are quite perfectly sized aren't you?”

“You’re funny,” Shiro giggled. “How come you know my name?”

“Oh, well I’m friends with—” but she stopped talking, a funny look on her face, “I’m friends with Keith. He told me all about you and what a special young man you are. I’ve been very much looking forward to meeting you. My name is Allura.”

Shiro’s chest filled with pride. “I’m a good jumper, wanna see?”

Allura clapped her hands together. “Oh yes, very much.”

Keith moved closer to the bed, his hands under Shiro’s arms as he carefully put Shiro back on it before moving to stand next to Allura. She leaned in and whispered something to Keith that had a small frown appearing on his face, and Shiro suddenly felt shy. Maybe Keith didn’t want to watch him jump anymore. 

“Are you ready, Shiro?” Allura asked.

Shiro stood there unsure what to do. Allura whispered something else to Keith and the funny feeling in Shiro’s tummy got worse. He didn’t like when grown-ups whispered about him. Baba and Jiji did it a lot, especially with the doctors. He didn’t think he wanted to jump anymore.

“You okay, buddy?” Keith asked and Shiro shrugged.

Keith moved quickly, back beside the bed with a hand on Shiro’s arm. “Does something hurt? Are you tired?”

Shiro shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” Keith asked. 

Shiro shrugged again feeling his bottom lip shake. 

“Okay, that's—hey, don’t cry, it’s okay.” He rubbed his hand on Shiro’s back.

For some reason that made Shiro start to cry for real. He wasn’t sure why. Keith was nice and Allura seemed nice, but everything was different and Shiro just wanted to go home.

“Is he alright?” Allura asked. “Should we call the doctors? Perhaps—”

“No!” Shiro yelled, launching himself off the bed and onto Keith, who caught him easily despite Shiro not asking first. Shiro shoved his face into his shoulder, rubbing away his tears on Keith’s shirt. He didn’t want anyone else new to come in. 

“No what?” Keith asked him, hefting Shiro up onto his side and wrapping an arm around him. 

“No doctors,” Shiro whispered, rubbing his nose against Keith’s shoulder. It left a wet spot and he hoped Keith didn’t get mad at him for it. Sometimes grown-ups got really mad about stuff like that.

“Oh,” Keith said. Shiro was afraid Keith might put him down or tell him not to be rude. Baba didn’t like when he ignored strangers. Keith didn’t do either one, though. He just rubbed his hand up and down Shiro’s back as he whispered, “I won’t call the doctors, buddy.”

“Keith, will all due respect I rather think the doctors might be able to shed some light on his emotional instability. We are quite out of our depths here and,” she stopped talking and Shiro lifted his eyes to watch her. She looked kinda scared, like the the time Shiro had to tell Baba he’d accidentally broken her favorite vase while pretending it was a rocket shop. “Well, it’s just—”

“Just what?” Keith interrupted. His voice was a little scary.

“I’m just wondering if perhaps someone with more experience might be able to better care for Shiro while we figure out how to return him to normal.”

Keith stopped rubbing Shiro’s back. “No one can take care of Shiro better than me.”

“Perhaps if we called in another specialist, someone who knew how to better care for a child and—”

“No,” Keith said again, and his grip on Shiro got a lot tighter. “No one is taking Shiro.”

“Someone’s gonna take me?” Shiro sniffled, feeling scared. He didn’t want anyone to take him. Shiro’s bottom lip started to shake and he buried his face into Keith’s neck trying not to cry again.

“No one is going to take you,” Keith told him, hefting Shiro up a little higher. “I promise.”

Shiro nodded into Keith’s neck. He didn’t think Keith would lie, but he tightened his arms and legs around Keith just in case. Sometimes grown-ups changed their minds. Keith might change his mind about keeping Shiro.

“I think perhaps my skills would be best be used helping Hunk and Pidge with their research. I apologize if I offended you, Keith.”

“No, it’s…it’s okay. Just, no one else is taking him. I’ll keep him safe, and you guys figure out how to fix him, okay?”

“Of course,” Allura said. She caught Shiro’s eye as he peeked at her from over Keith’s shoulder and smiled at him. “It was lovely to meet you, little Shiro. I’m afraid I must take my leave, but perhaps we will meet again.”

She waved at Shiro and he waved back.

Once Allura left, Keith walked backwards until his legs hit Shiro’s bed, then he plopped down on the end. Shiro thought maybe Keith was tired of holding him, so he carefully climbed out of Keith’s arms and scooted himself onto the bed. He opened his mouth to ask Keith if they could play something, but all that came out was a giant yawn.

“You tired?” Keith asked, turning sideways and crossing his legs so he was sitting on the bed just like Shiro.

“No,” Shiro lied. Then he yawned a second time.

“Maybe you could take a nap.” Keith laughed when Shiro crossed his arms and pouted. “A really, really little nap.”

“I’m not tired!” Shiro protested. Except then he yawned again. 

Keith grinned. “Sure, buddy.”

“I’m not,” Shiro told him, even if he was a little bit tired. Shiro didn’t take naps anymore. He wasn’t a baby.

“What if you just laid down and I told you a story?” Keith suggested.

“What kind of story?” Shiro asked. He didn’t really wanna lie down, but he did like stories.

“Uh, what kind of stories do you like?”

Shiro scooted down, flopping back onto his pillow and rolling onto his side to watch Keith. “Good stories.”

“Right,” Keith said with a small smile. “Good stories. Good stories. Okay, I can do this. I can totally do this.”

Shiro giggled. He liked Keith.

“So there was this—”

“Good stories start with once upon a time,” Shiro interrupted. His Jiji always started stories with once upon a time, and he was the smartest person Shiro knew. 

“Right, once upon a time,” Keith said seriously. “Okay, once upon a time there was a hero. His name was Jiro.”

Shiro giggled. “Jiro the hero. That rhymes.” Shiro sat up quickly. “Wait, Jiro almost sounds like Shiro. That’s so cool.”

Keith looked really happy and laughed, but Shiro wasn’t sure what was so funny. “Yeah, it’s almost _exactly_ like your name.”

“Shiro the hero,” Shiro whispered to himself. It sounded so cool, and he liked that it made Keith smile.

“So you wanna hear more?”

He nodded, dragging his pillow farther down the bed so he was closer to Keith. Keith jumped off the bed to fix the blanket he’d been sitting on, pulling it over Shiro before climbing back onto the bed. The hospital room was really cold, and the blanket was warm. It felt good.

“So once upon a time there was a hero named Jiro. He was the bravest, most selfless and handsome paladin that ever lived.”

“What’s a paladin?” Shiro interrupted again. Jiji didn’t like when he interrupted his stories, but Keith didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, uh…a paladin is kind of like a knight or a superhero. They protect people, keep them safe. They go on lots of adventures and protect the world.”

“Whoa,” Shiro said quietly. “I wanna be a paladin. Could I be one?”

Keith made a choking noise. He almost looked like he was gonna cry, which was weird because grown-ups didn’t cry that much. Shiro was scared that maybe he’d said something bad, but then Keith smiled at Shiro and reached out to stroke his hand through Shiro’s hair. It felt really nice. “You’d be the best paladin, Shiro.”

“I want to go to space when I grow up, but being a paladin sounds cool. Can I do both?”

“You can do anything, Shiro. Absolutely anything.”

Shiro smiled. He really hoped Keith wasn’t lying. “Can you—” but he stopped talking and let out a loud cry when his arm started to hurt really bad. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to count to ten like Baba had told him, but sometimes when it hurt really bad he forgot some of the numbers.

“Shiro. Shiro, are you okay?” Keith asked. He put his hand on Shiro’s arm and Shiro pulled it back, cradling it to his chest. “I’m sorry, shit. I mean pretend I didn’t say shit. Fuck.” Keith looked upset and rubbed his hands on his face.

“That’s a bad word,” Shiro told him, still frowning. The pain was starting to get better.

“You’re right. It is a bad word. I wasn’t supposed to say that. Are you okay, buddy?”

Shiro shrugged. “Just hurts sometimes.” It was already starting to feel better and he shook his hand out then held it up to show Keith he was okay. “Jiji says it’s probably growing pains and that I’m gonna grow up to be the biggest and the strongest.”

“ _Growing pains_ ,” Keith repeated.

Shiro nodded. “I have a lot so that means I’m gonna be really big.”

“You don’t know yet,” Keith whispered. He kinda looked like he was gonna cry again. Maybe Keith needed a nap.

“Don’t know what?” Shiro asked, settling back onto his pillow. He tugged the blanket up under his chin to get warmer. Shiro hated being cold.

Keith coughed. “Nothing, buddy. Nothing.”

“Grown-ups are weird.”

Keith laughed quietly, which was weird because he didn’t look happy. “Yeah, we kind of are sometimes.”

“I wanna hear more story,” Shiro told him.

“More story, yes. Great idea. I can definitely do that,” Keith said. He started to stroke his hand through Shiro’s hair again, brushing the long bits in the front off his face. It reminded Shiro of the way Baba and Jiji played with his hair when they put him to sleep and read him his bedtime stories. Not that Shiro was going to sleep, because he definitely wasn’t. He was just comfortable and maybe a little sleepy but definitely not enough for a nap. Shiro hadn’t taken a nap since he started preschool, and that was forever and ever ago. Big boys didn’t need naps.

“So, Jiro was very handsome and very kind. He could have done anything in the world, but he decided to spend his life protecting people. He went on grand adventures and—”

“Was he trying to save a princess?” Shiro asked. Knights usually tried to save princesses.

Keith paused, looking like he was thinking hard. “Jiro went on many quests. He saved kingdoms and protected the innocent. He even saved a princess once, though she saved him too. Mostly though, he went on a lot of adventures with his best friend, uh—Heith. Heith was Jiro’s most loyal and devoted friend and—”

“Did Jiro wanna marry the princess?” Shiro blurted. Usually in the fairy tales Jiji read him the knight wanted to marry the princess.

Keith’s hand stilled and he pulled his hand away, setting it in his lap. “Uh, no. No, Jiro didn’t want to marry the princess.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the thing is—” Keith chewed on his bottom lip. “Jiro liked princes more.”

“Oh,” Shiro said, watching Keith curiously. “Cool.”

Keith looked like maybe he forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. “Yeah, cool.”

“So what else did Jiro and Heith do?” Shiro asked.

Keith smiled. “Do you wanna hear the story of how they saved the universe?”

“Yes, please,” Shiro whispered.

“Well, once upon a time in a galaxy far away, Heith was all alone. He’d all but given up hope when Jiro arrived.” As Keith began to tell the story he reached out and stroked Shiro’s hair again. His voice was kind and his hands were warm. Shiro didn’t wanna take a nap or anything but he closed his eyes, just to rest. 

Keith’s kind voice beginning a story about magic flying lions was the last thing Shiro heard before his eyes fluttered shut before he fell asleep.

***

As Shiro slept, his dreams weren’t plagued with worries or fears but of grand adventures.

He dreamed of brave paladins and flying lions that soared as far as the moon.

He dreamed and he dreamed.

When he awoke, he remembered none.


	3. Chapter 3

An obnoxious beeping noise roused Shiro from his sleep—the trilling sound making his ears ring. He frowned and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, rolling over and shoving his face into his pillow as he tried to ignore it. Shiro was pretty good at ignoring things like that. Sometimes he let his alarm ring so long Baba or Jiji came in yelling in Japanese before they unplugged his clock. They never thought it was as funny as Shiro did.

It was weird, though, because Shiro didn’t remember turning the alarm on last night. He tried to think if there was something Baba or Jiji had told him they were doing today and felt nervous when he realized he couldn’t actually remember talking to them last night, or even the day before. In fact, he couldn’t really remember the last time he had talked to them. He also wasn’t sure what day it was. Usually Shiro was really good about keeping track of the days of the week so that was strange. Very strange.

Unable to ignore the ringing sound—or his own confusion—any longer, he lifted his head from his pillow. His frown intensified tenfold when he looked around the room and he realized he was definitely not in his own bed at home. The sheets were white and itchy and not covered in spaceships. He was in a hospital bed. It’d been years since he woke up in a hospital without knowing how he got there. The exercises the doctors prescribed along with the physical therapy and his bracelets had been helping. A lot actually. None of it really took the pain away, not completely. But they stopped Shiro from needing to be in the hospital so much. If Shiro often lied and pretended most of his pain was gone so the doctors and his grandparents stopped fussing over him and worrying, well, it was worth it. 

Maybe someone had realized he was in more pain than he let on. But that still didn't explain how he didn’t remember anyone taking him to the hospital.

Shiro sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and grimacing when the stupid hospital gown barely covered his legs. Great. It was bad enough everyone treated him like a little kid every time he ended up in the hospital, now they were dressing him like he was five or something. The gown even had tiny pastel teddy bears on it. Shiro hadn’t been put in one of the baby gowns since his sixth birthday.

Well, there was nothing to do for it now so he yanked the flat sheet off his bed and wrapped it around himself like a cape. At least then if Baba or Jiji or one of the doctors came in to check on him they wouldn’t see his butt. Shiro hopped off the bed, the floor cold as ice on his bare feet as he shuffled over to the machines lining the back wall. The one beeping loudest had a long cord with a grey blob on the end. Shiro recognized it as the thing they used to measure his oxygen levels. Except it hadn’t been on his finger when he woke up, which was likely the problem. He snuck an arm out from beneath his sheet and poked at the screen, but nothing happened. Not that he thought it would, but it never hurt to try.

He was so preoccupied trying to figure out how to get the annoying machine to stop beeping he didn’t even notice the sound of his door opening—didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until he heard an unfamiliar male voice.

“Shiro, where are—”

At the sound of his name Shiro spun around, a guilty look on his face for getting out of bed and fussing with the medical equipment. The moment the man’s eyes landed on Shiro his mouth fell open and Shiro shifted on the spot, a strange warmth filling his tummy. Whoever this guy was he definitely wasn’t a doctor or a nurse. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain red t-shirt, and his sneakers were scuffed with a small hole in the toe. He had longer hair than most guys Shiro had ever seen before, and it was pulled up in a messy bun on top of his head. Definitely way too cool to work for the hospital. 

“I think you’re in the wrong room,” Shiro told him, tightening the sheet around him. The idea of being seen in a too-small baby hospital gown by his grandparents or a doctor had been bad enough, but a stranger was even worse.

“Shiro?” the man repeated quietly. Shiro kinda felt sorry for him. Maybe he was a patient who’d snuck out of his room, because he looked kinda shaky and scared. It didn’t explain how he knew Shiro’s name, though. Probably read it on a patient file outside. Shiro hoped he wasn’t crazy.

The man took another step into the room, his left hand that had been holding the door open falling to his side. The door slammed shut behind him as he took two more tentative steps forward. The closer the guy got the more the weird feeling in Shiro’s chest returned. It felt odd, almost like deja vu, which was weird since Shiro didn’t know this guy, even if he definitely seemed to know Shiro. 

“Hey, it’s okay, buddy,” he said, holding his hands up. “Don’t panic.”

Shiro took a step backward, bumping into the machine behind him and sending several of the instruments on it clattering loudly to the floor.

“I’m not,” Shiro lied, bristling at the insinuation that he was panicking even if it was possibly a little bit true. There was something almost familiar about this guy, but Shiro had never seen him before, and he didn’t know why he was in a hospital again or how he got here. He didn’t know where Baba and Jiji were either, and that made Shiro feel even more out of sorts. Shiro always knew everyone’s business—always knew exactly what was going on. Shiro was the one who reminded Jiji to take the shopping list to the grocery story, or reminded Baba to take her morning pills. He always knew where Baba’s lost glasses were, and he kept track of what day of the week it was to help Baba stick to her cleaning schedule and make sure she didn’t forget her monthly Bunco game. Shiro was good at knowing things.

Except right now he felt like maybe he didn’t know anything, and the funny feeling in his chest spread to the rest of his body—head spinning and arms and legs suddenly shaky. His chest felt tight, almost like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

“Shiro,” the man said again. Said it as if he knew Shiro and breathing got even harder.

“I don’t know you,” Shiro choked out, white spots flaring in front of his eyes. His head started to spin making it hard to stay upright. The man in his room looked scared, and Shiro tried to open his mouth to say he was fine but no words would come out. The world spun on its axis, and Shiro fell to his knees. 

Something was very wrong and Shiro didn’t have a clue what.

***

“That doesn’t make any sense,” the man—Keith, Shiro reminded himself, having heard multiple people call him that—repeated for at least the third time in the last few minutes. Keith had a very distinct voice, and it was easy to tell when he was the one talking even if Shiro wasn’t looking.

Not long before the room had been full of doctors and random people Shiro had never seen before, including a woman who looked like a princess and some guy in a blue shirt who wouldn’t shut up. He hadn’t been able to get a decent look at anyone since he’d been squinting at everyone while trying to pretend he was still asleep, but the only person whose voice he’d been able to make out had been Keith’s. Everyone else had been talking over each other or arguing in hushed voices. Eventually Keith and one of the doctors who talked a lot had kicked everyone else out. 

Now it was just her and Keith, and they’d been having the same conversation for what felt like forever.

“I know it’s hard to understand, Mr. Kogane. The best we can hypothesize is that whatever matter it was that caused Shiro to regress the first time was also responsible for his jump in age now.”

Shiro kept his eyes screwed shut despite the burning urge to jump from his bed and ask them what the heck they were talking about. As long as he pretended to be asleep the adults would keep talking, and then maybe he could figure out where he really was and how he’d got there or even where his grandparents were. Shiro’s current leading theory was still that either he or his grandparents had been abducted by aliens, because so far nothing he’d heard anyone say made any sense.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t explain why he passed out. Is he sick? Is it—”

“We don’t believe his disease has altered course if that’s what you’re worried about. Based on the medical records the Garrison has access to, from his time of admission compared with current diagnostic results it appears that his physiology is exactly the same as when he was this age originally.”

Shiro barely suppressed a gasp. _Originally_. What in the heck was going on? 

“So then why did he faint?” Keith asked again. 

Shiro couldn’t stop wondering about this Keith guy because he sounded genuinely worried. He sounded like he cared about Shiro. Usually it was only Shiro’s grandparents who sounded like that. Even weirder was that the more he talked, the more Shiro felt certain he’d met Keith before even though he definitely couldn’t remember it actually happening. He couldn’t shake the strong sense of deja vu he was feeling, the same thing he’d felt since he first met Keith, almost as if he’d had a dream of this exact thing happening before. 

Taking a big chance, Shiro rolled onto his side as slowly and quietly as he could and opened his eyes just a sliver. The doctor and Keith had their backs turned to him, and it gave Shiro the chance to observe them both. The doctor was tapping away at something held in her hands, showing some kind of graph to Keith who had his shoulders hunched. His eyes roamed over the room, taking in the large locked window opposite the bed and the single door. Although if this was an alien abduction it was possible Shiro was imagining all of this and the window and the door weren’t real, which would ruin his escape plan. 

“You’ve got to understand that we’ve never seen anything remotely like this before. There’s no precedent for what we’re seeing. Everything right now is an educated guess, heavy on the guessing. Physically, Shiro appears in optimum health all things considered. Emotionally though—”

“Emotionally though what?” Keith interrupted.

The doctor turned her body, adjusting her datapad and sighing softly. Shiro caught a strange smile on her face before he screwed his eyes shut again in case either of them happened to look in his direction.

“Emotionally he’s a child, Mr. Kogane. He’s just a child who woke up and didn’t know where he was or how he got here. He was crying and asking for his grandparents who haven't been here for a very long time. He’s confused and scared. You’d be surprised to find what type of physiological reactions can occur in the body because of the turmoil of the mind.”

Shiro inhaled sharply, fingers clenching in his itchy blanket. He wasn’t scared before, at least he didn’t think so. But he thought maybe he was now. Just a little bit. What did she mean his grandparents hadn’t been around for a long time? Maybe he’d been in some sort of weird alien stasis and was actually in the future. Which was—that was pretty cool actually. Except for the stuff with his grandparents. They needed him. Jiji would be lonely without Shiro to help him do his crosswords in the mornings, and Baba needed someone to taste her cooking to make sure everything was just right. And Shiro, well—Shiro needed them too. He didn’t like the sound of them being gone.

He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. What if he wasn’t safe? What if his grandparents weren’t safe? He needed to protect them.

“So what can I do?” Keith asked, dragging Shiro’s attention away from his worries and back to their conversation. He could worry later. For now, the more information he got before they realized he was awake the better.

“The same thing you’ve been doing if I’m not mistaken. His vitals have spiked any time anyone else has tried to talk to him, even in sleep. He may not remember you, but your presence is still important. The most we can do now is make Shiro feel safe until we can figure out exactly what’s going on. We have no way of knowing how long this might last or he’ll ever go back to—”

Unfortunately Shiro didn’t get to hear the last part of that sentence since his nose started to tickle, and before he could stop it he was letting out a loud sneeze that made the doctor stop talking. He slammed his eyes shut and inhaled slowly. He took two more deep breaths before he dared to open his eyes. When he did, Keith and the doctor were both looking at him like they thought he might explode. 

“Hello, Shiro,” the doctor said, slowly walking to his bedside. She reached for his wrist, placing two fingers over his pulse point and humming to herself as she examined the vitals on the screen beside him. 

“I want to go home,” he blurted, cutting right to the chase. He figured it was probably better to get that out of the way first. 

“Of course you do,” she answered, gently laying his arm back down on the bed. “Unfortunately you cannot go home right now. But I promise you that you’re perfectly safe here.”

Shiro wrinkled his nose. She seemed nice enough, but Shiro wasn’t sure he trusted her. “And where is here?”

“How are you feeling?” she asked, pointedly ignoring his question. It made Shiro frown.

“Fine,” he answered automatically.

“Does anything hurt?”

Shiro thought about the dull ache in his left arm and the tingling in his ankles. It wasn’t much different than usual. “Nope.”

“That’s wonderful. If anything changes you just let someone know, alright? Anything at all. For now I’ll leave you in Mr. Kogane’s capable hands while I finish my rounds.” And then she was gone. Not that Shiro had really expected her to ask him what he thought or if he wanted to be left with Keith. Adults rarely consulted him on his opinion about things like that. Shiro didn’t have anything against Keith, at least he didn’t think he did. In fact, of all the people who’d been in and out of Shiro’s room since he’d woken up, Keith had the nicest voice and seemed to be the least annoying.

It was just that he was still looking at Shiro funny—almost the same way Baba looked at photos of Shiro’s mother when she thought Shiro wasn’t looking. Except Shiro wasn’t dead. At least he didn’t think he was. He wondered if you were dead if you’d even know it.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked him, unable to help himself. Even though he still wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t some huge secret government cover up he felt sorta sorry for this Keith guy. Maybe he didn’t want to be stuck watching Shiro. He certainly didn’t look happy.

Keith let out a weird choking noise, covering his mouth with his hand and scrubbing his face. “I’m fine.”

He looked anything but fine.

“You’re not a very good liar.” Shiro sat up, tugging the blanket up higher in his lap.

“God that’s what you always—” but Keith stopped mid-sentence, inhaling slowly before he finished talking. “I mean I’ve been told that before. A lot actually.”

“By who?” Shiro asked, trying to piece together anything he could. 

Keith looked surprised by the question. “My best friend. He always tells me I’m a shit liar and that I can’t hide anything.”

“Oh, well he’s right.”

Keith laughed. “He usually is.”

“Does that mean you won’t lie to me then? Since you’re so bad at it anyway,” Shiro queried. He couldn’t exactly explain why but he thought maybe he could trust Keith. He didn’t talk about Shiro the way everyone else did—as if he wasn’t there. He talked about Shiro like he was important. Shiro still didn’t understand why Keith cared what happened to him or where his grandparents were, but he thought maybe if anyone was gonna help him figure out what was going on it might be Keith.

“I’ll try.” Shiro frowned and Keith gave him a tight smile. “I don’t want to lie to you. But there are a lot of things I’m not allowed to tell you. It’s not because I don’t want to, it’s just—”

“You’re not the boss,” Shiro finished. He’d already suspected whatever was going on Keith wasn’t in charge. He was old but he wasn’t a grown-up. Grown-ups didn’t have rips in their jeans and holes in their shoes.

Keith laughed, leaning back in his chair. “No, buddy. I’m definitely not the boss.”

“It sucks when people tell you what to do,” Shiro said, twisting the sheet in between his hands.

“You get told what to do a lot?” Keith asked.

Shiro shrugged. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m a kid. But one day I’m gonna be a grown-up and no one will be able to tell me what to do. I’m gonna fly to outer space and then when I come back I’ll be my own boss and I won’t have to do what everyone else wants me to do, ever.”

Keith’s face twisted up in a funny expression. He opened his mouth then closed it immediately as if he’d changed his mind. He puffed his cheeks with air and blew it out slowly as he shoved a hand into his pockets and pulled out several brightly colored wrapped candies. Shiro recognized them immediately.

“Starbursts are my favorite,” he blurted, blushing when Keith smiled at him.

“Want one?” Keith asked, holding his upturned palm out.

Shiro pursed his lips. He did want one. He hadn’t had one since Halloween last year. His grandparents didn’t like to let him have candy—hypervigilant about Shiro’s diet because of his illness. Except on Halloween. It was the one day of the year he got to feel like a normal kid. Common sense told him that taking candy from a stranger was a bad idea. 

“Okay,” he answered, reaching out and taking just one—red, his favorite. “Thank you.”

Very slowly he scratched the first fold open with his nail, carefully peeling open each side without ripping the wrapper. When he looked up Keith was looking at him kinda funny again.

“Most people just rip them open,” Keith observed. He didn’t sound like he thought Shiro was weird though. “I’ve only ever met one other person who opened their Starbursts like that.”

“I’ve never met anyone else who does,” Shiro said, popping the candy into his mouth.

“Maybe only the coolest people in the world do it,” Keith told him, smiling.

Shiro’s tummy felt warm and he ducked his head. Keith didn’t say anything after that, which Shiro was grateful for, but he did hold out his hand to offer Shiro another candy—yellow this time.

Shiro hesitated for only a second before taking the candy. It wasn’t until he’d eaten the entire thing that he realized Keith wasn’t having any.

“Aren’t you gonna have any?” he asked, unable to imagine how anyone could have an entire pocket full of Starbursts at their disposal and not eat them all.

Keith shook his head. “I uh, don’t actually like them.”

“Then how come you have so many in your pockets?” Shiro asked, accepting the third candy Keith passed him. 

“Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Shiro persisted.

Keith laughed softly. “My best friend loves them. A while back I kinda got in the habit of keeping them in my pocket in case he wanted some.”

“Oh, that’s nice of you,” Shiro said. “I don’t have a best friend.”

He didn’t tell Keith that he wanted one. That most kids thought he was kinda weird for being obsessed with space or made fun of him for his medical bracelets or all the school he missed. 

Keith made a strange noise, fingers clenching in his lap. “One day you will, Shiro.”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind,” Shiro lied.

As Keith passed him a few more Starbursts Shiro couldn’t help the bit of hope that bubbled up. He hoped Keith was right.

***

“Just remain very still,” the doctor instructed, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Shiro’s bicep. “The less you move the faster this will be over.”

“That’s what you said last time,” Shiro grumbled, recalling with displeasure the blood draw he’d done before. And the not at all routine third degree about his health. Or the x-rays.

“Sorry, did that hurt?” the doctor asked after most definitely pulling the cuff too tight.

“Nope it’s fine,” Shiro told him with a forced smile.

Behind the doctor it looked very much like Keith was trying not to laugh. It made Shiro smile even though he wasn’t feeling very happy. He couldn’t explain why, but he liked the idea that maybe Keith thought he was funny.

It’d been a few hours since he’d polished off Keith’s pocketful of candy, and his stomach was grumbling for food and his butt was sore. He was so tired of doing nothing but sitting. Things had been fine when it was just him and Keith, but then the doctors had begun to file in one after another, each one claiming they just wanted to make sure he was alright. It didn’t seem to matter how many times Shiro told them all he was fine. No one believed him. Which meant he’d spent the better part of the last few hours—or at least it felt like hours, there was no clock in his room—being asked his age, his name, or how he felt physically and emotionally over and over by each new doctor. That’d been bad enough, but then the tests had begun—blood tests, blood pressure, oxygen levels, reflex testing, the whole lot. It was like when Shiro got his twice a year physical except worse because at least that was his normal doctor. He didn’t know these ones. He didn’t trust them.

“Stay very still,” the doctor said again. It was a pointless instruction since Shiro was being very still. He’d done everything the doctors had asked in the hope his cooperation might earn him some information. Sadly, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out where exactly his grandparents were or why he was in the hospital. All anyone would tell him was the same thing over and over—that he was safe—which was a load of crap as far as Shiro was concerned. For all he knew the reason they kept taking his blood was so they could hide it away in their labs to try and clone him. He’d snuck out of his bedroom after his grandparents had gone to bed last weekend to watch a documentary on the history channel about aliens, and this seemed exactly like something they might do. Baba said he got too many conspiracy theories in his head when he watched them, but Shiro knew he was gonna go to space one day so he might as well be prepared. And the best way to be prepared was to get as much information as possible. Including about aliens.

Realistically, Shiro hadn’t actually seen anything that supported his alien theory yet, but then again it was possible aliens could look just like humans. Maybe Keith was the alien. As soon as he thought it he shook his head. No way Keith was the alien. If anyone was an alien it was probably the doctor with the gross mustache who wiggled his nose too much and smelled like tuna fish. Shiro hated tuna.

“Your blood pressure looks great,” the doctor told him, pulling back the velcro to remove the cuff.

Shiro snatched his arm back, rubbing at it. He hated the prickly feeling he got in his arms when they did that.

“Does it hurt?” the doctor asked.

“No,” Shiro answered. Which wasn’t really a lie. Technically. It was uncomfortable, but it didn’t hurt. Shiro had a very high pain tolerance, thank you very much.

“That’s good. Very good.” The doctor straightened his back, wriggling his nose as he began to tap away at his datapad. He muttered under his breath as he swiped his finger across the screen. Shiro itched to know exactly what was so fascinating about his blood pressure. “That’s curious, but well…yes.”

“Yes what?” Shiro asked, unable to help himself.

“Yes, you can leave. Medically there’s nothing we can do for you and we have no idea, well, we’re unsure how long your stay with us will extend. I’ve spoken with the other doctors and hinging on these last results the team feels as if it would be better for you to spend the rest of your time here in a place more relaxing than a small hospital room.”

“Where are you sending me?” Shiro asked, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he suddenly felt. It wasn’t as if he wanted to stay in the stupid hospital, but at least he knew what to expect in there. The idea of being sent somewhere else with all new people made him feel like throwing up. 

“We’re—” the doctor began, but Keith cut him off immediately, walking out from behind him and moving to stand closer to Shiro’s bed.

“Wherever you’re taking him I’m coming.” He said it in a way that left no room for question, and some of the unease in Shiro’s stomach untwisted. He didn’t know Keith, not really. But out of everyone he’d met so far Keith felt the closest to a friend. Not that Shiro really thought Keith was his friend. He was just the person they’d put in charge of Shiro. A grown-up. Except he wasn’t like the other grown-ups. He was a cool one. He shared his candy, and he laughed at Shiro’s jokes, and he yelled at the doctors when he thought they weren’t being gentle enough. Which was kinda silly since Shiro wasn’t a baby and could take care of himself, but it kinda felt nice to know at least Keith was on his side.

“Of course you are, Mr. Kogane,” the doctor sighed. “I think everyone on Shiro’s team is well aware that you would not allow us to move him anywhere without your consent.”

“I’m his—” but then Keith stopped, leaning in to whisper something to the doctor. His what, Shiro wondered?

The doctor pinched his nose while Keith continued to whisper. He had the same look on his face that Shiro’s grandma got when Shiro talked too much. “Yes, yes. I’m well aware. You’ve made us all well aware, Mr. Kogane. You will receive a full briefing on anything pertinent I promise. For now Shiro is being medically discharged and you will both be escorted to private quarters. I don’t think I need to tell you that discretion is of the utmost importance. A child wandering the Garrison halls would lead to too many questions.”

Keith nodded. “Discretion is my middle name.”

The doctor snorted and Keith frowned. “I have also seen your file, Mr. Kogane.”

Keith looked annoyed, hunching his shoulders and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m not seventeen anymore.”

“No one is the same age as they were before. Mistakes could have unimaginable consequences. I’m not sure if you fully understand the gravity of—”

“Just…stop talking for a minute. Please.” He turned his eyes on Shiro and gave him a smile that was anything but genuine before turning his attention to the doctor once more. The smile on his face was gone, replaced by a look Shiro couldn’t read. He was just glad that face wasn’t directed at him. “Could we have a word in private please?”

“Of course,” the doctor agreed, though he didn’t look happy about it. 

“We’ll be just outside the door for a few minutes, Shiro,” Keith told him. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.” Shiro shrugged. He didn’t think he actually had a choice in what was happening to him anyway.

It wasn’t until Keith and the doctor stepped outside of his room that Shiro let out the breath he’d been holding. With a grunt he collapsed back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, wishing he had some idea what they were talking about. He jumped with a start as something occurred to him.

He did know one thing.

He was at the Garrison.

Now he just needed to figure out why.

***

Once Keith had come back in the room after talking to the doctors there’d been a flurry of nurses in and out with discharge papers and then someone with some clothes that actually fit. Now it was just him and Keith walking to, well, wherever they were sending him. He felt safer bringing up what he’d overheard in the hospital room now, even if he still didn’t feel _safe_.

“So, the Garrison, huh?” Shiro said smoothly, as if his heart wasn’t beating so hard it felt like it might burst right out of his chest. He stared at his feet as spoke, amazed they were still moving as they continued to walk down the nondescript hallways. If he hadn’t heard the doctor say where they were he never would’ve guessed. The walls were an ugly shade of tan with a few orange stripes, but otherwise wasn’t nearly as impressive as he’d expected it to be. There was something creepy about the lack of people and decor. 

Keith stumbled at his words, pausing in the middle of the empty hallway to give Shiro a blank stare. Then he shook his head and laughed. “You always were smart. I shouldn’t be surprised you figured out that much already.”

Shiro didn’t bother pointing out that the doctor had accidentally said where they were. Or at least Shiro assumed it was an accident since everyone was being so weird and tight-lipped about it all. They’d deflected all his questions about where he was and about his grandparents with confusing answers and reassurances of his safety that hadn’t made him feel safe at all. Everyone seemed to know enough about Shiro that they were at least telling the truth that his grandparents had left him under the care of the hospital for undisclosed reasons, or they were holding them hostage. He honestly wasn’t sure which one seemed more unlikely anymore.

Either way, though, he figured there was no harm in letting Keith think he’d figured out his location on his own, especially since Keith looked kinda impressed. Shiro liked surprising people, liked pleasing them. It was a good feeling, and Shiro was pretty short on those right now. 

“So does that mean you’re gonna tell me more?” he asked. He shoved his hand into his pocket and crossed his fingers.

“Why don’t we just get to our rooms and then we can talk.” Keith placed his hand Shiro’s back, just between his shoulder blades. 

“Okay,” Shiro agreed, letting Keith’s hand guide him down the hallway and then left past another set of closed doors. 

Despite his promise to wait to talk, Shiro’s curiosity bubbled up with each new door they passed. He knew all about the Garrison. He had a desk drawer full of pamphlets about the academy even though he couldn’t technically apply until he was sixteen. The Garrison was the top school for anyone interested in aerospace engineering and flight—Shiro loved both. The only thing Shiro loved more than the stars was the idea of being the one to fly to the stars. He didn’t just want to be a passenger, he wanted to be the pilot. The doctors told him to dream big, then whispered not too big when they thought he wasn’t listening. But Shiro didn’t plan on letting anyone or anything get in the way of his dreams—not even his own stupid body. Which was exactly why he’d started requesting admission applications from the Garrison under his grandfather's name last year and checked out every book he could about the history of the academy. Knowledge was power, and Shiro planned to be the most powerful applicant the Garrison had ever seen. That way they couldn’t say no.

At least when he was old enough. For now Shiro was stuck at elementary school where his interest in space was usually treated as silly kid stuff and not a real plan for his future. Just because most ten-year-olds didn’t have a ten-year plan didn’t mean Shiro didn’t. The doctors liked to pretend that a positive outlook could get Shiro far, but he was smart enough to know how to google what was wrong with him when everyone went to sleep. He knew his good years were limited. Which meant if Shiro wanted something he didn’t have time to wait and hope. He needed to _do_.

Shiro knew if he ever wanted to get to outer space the only way he was going to do it was to go to the Garrison. It didn’t matter that the odds of him passing the physical exam to get in were low, or that it was on the other side of the country from where he and his grandparents lived. Shiro knew what he wanted, and he was going to get it.

Except as his footsteps echoed on the linoleum floor all Shiro could do was wonder. Where was everyone? How did he really get here? Why did the Garrison have their own hospital? Why did the Garrison care about Shiro? What exactly did Keith have to do with the Garrison? He didn’t have a uniform like the people in the pamphlets so he couldn’t be a student, but there was no way he was a teacher either. Nothing made any sense, and the more he saw the less he knew.

Since he’d woken up the questions kept piling up until they outnumbered the answers ten to one. 

Shiro’s eyes roamed around the halls of the place he wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world, and instead of excitement he felt nervous and maybe even a little bit scared. Every few seconds Keith would glance in Shiro’s direction, and he forced himself to smile. He didn’t want Keith to ask him how he was. He wanted to be the one asking the questions. 

“Almost there,” Keith announced, dropping his hand from Shiro’s back to shove it into his pocket and dig around until he found what he was looking for, which turned out to be a small gold key. It doubled Shiro’s curiosity about Keith’s link to the Garrison. He seemed to know where he was going by heart despite the fact every hallway looked exactly the same to Shiro.

His grandfather’s favorite saying jumped into his mind—patience yields focus—and he tried his very best to do him proud. He was pretty sure Keith would answer his questions so long as Shiro was calm and patient.

Keith stopped at the end of the hallway in front of the last door. It was nondescript with a gold-plated number 201 on the door. He slid the key into the lock and turned the handle, pushing the door open. Rather than go in first he nodded his head and Shiro assumed he wanted him to go first, so with no small amount of apprehension Shiro walked inside. He wasn’t entirely sure what he’d expected it to look like, maybe a hospital room without the doctors, or some sterile bunk beds without bedding. Definitely something as devoid of life as the empty hallways. What he saw, however, was the exact opposite.

The room he’d stepped into wasn’t small or empty. It was a spacious apartment with a cozy-looking red couch piled high with pillows and rows of bookshelves filled with so many books they were almost falling out. There was even a television. Off to the left was a small hallway Shiro guessed might lead to bedrooms, and on the opposite side was an open kitchen. There wasn’t a whole lot of decorations, but there was something decidedly lived in about the space and the curiosity Shiro had been doing his best to keep under lock bubbled over.

A million and one questions flashed through his mind. Where was he? How did he get to the Garrison? Where were his grandparents? Why did the Garrison care about him? Had aliens kidnapped his grandparents? Was Keith an alien?

Shiro’s stomach flipped uncomfortably as he tried to mentally prioritize the questions. It was only then that he noticed the leather jacket hanging on a hook by the front door along with a pair of worn leather boots. One question in particular rushed out before he could think twice.

“Where are we?” he asked, immediate curiosity about his location overruling all others.

Keith smiled. “This is where I live.”

***

After getting over his initial surprise, Shiro decided maybe it wasn’t that surprising after all. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Keith was clearly comfortable at the Garrison—familiar with the doctors and other people who worked there—and he knew his way around the maze like hallways.

Keith lived at the Garrison. That was one piece of the puzzle. A big piece even. Except it was like finding a piece from the middle of the puzzle first and what Shiro needed was the edges. He helped Jiji with his puzzles on the weekends since Jiji’s eyes weren’t so good anymore, and he’d pat Shiro’s hand. Shiro always started with whatever he could find and Jiji would smile, “Patience yields focus, Takashi. Find the edges first. Find your boundaries. You can do this.” 

Just thinking about Jiji made Shiro’s stomach hurt, and he scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hands and hoped Keith wasn’t watching him. He didn’t like when people saw him cry. Not that Shiro was crying, because he wasn’t. 

After his revelation, Keith had ruffled Shiro’s hair and told him that if he could hold his questions for a little bit Keith would make them food. Shiro’s stomach had grumbled loud enough there was no point in pretending he wasn’t starving. Keith had grinned at Shiro kindly before hanging up the key and kicking off his shoes, then making his way to the small kitchen. 

Which left Shiro in his current predicament as he sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch listening to Keith moving around the kitchen behind him. Sometimes he’d turn to watch him, trying to guess what he was making, but every time Keith looked in his direction Shiro would quickly look away. He desperately wanted to get up and take a closer look at the bookshelves and see if there were any more clues there, or sit himself at the kitchen island and pester Keith with questions. But he did neither, hugging one of the couch pillows to his chest and trying not to think about his grandparents and whether they were okay.

“Food’s ready,” Keith announced, nearly making Shiro jump.

He swallowed down his nerves and shoved the pillow back onto the couch, ignoring the increased tingling in his wrists and ankles as he walked toward the kitchen. He hadn’t done any of his physical therapy exercises since he’d woken up and he didn’t have his bracelets, but he’d been too worried about alien takeovers and being kidnapped to think about either of those things. He thought about them now though as a bone deep pain twisted up his arm. Keith was watching him, though, so Shiro smiled through the pain, ignoring it in favor of focusing on the prospect of food.

The closer he got to the kitchen the more he noticed the enticing smells. He’d been so preoccupied with his own thoughts and questions he’d ignored the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach and the aroma coming from the kitchen. Now though, the smell was the only thing Shiro could focus on—a scent so familiar it make his tummy flip in a funny way. It seemed like too much to hope for that Keith might have somehow figured out his favorite meal and made it, yet as he took the last few steps to cross the open living room Shiro could see exactly what Keith had been cooking. 

There it was sitting on the table practically calling his name—a bowl filled to the brim with ooey gooey cheesy perfection was sitting at the kitchen table and his stomach rumbled so loudly there was no way Keith didn’t hear it.

“You made macaroni and cheese,” Shiro blurted out, feeling silly for stating the obvious because of course Keith knew that. He’d been the one to cook it after all.

Keith didn’t laugh at him, though. Instead he nodded, placing an even bigger bowl of it in front of himself as he sat down at the same table that was just off the kitchen. “I thought you might like it. All kids love mac and cheese right?”

“It’s my favorite food,” Shiro divulged, finally letting himself admit just how hungry he was as he dropped down into the seat opposite Keith. He reached for the spoon, digging into the bowl and taking an enormous bite. It wasn’t the plain mac and cheese that came out of the box either, but the homemade stuff just like Baba made him. It was thick and warm and somehow even cheesier than the kind Baba made him for special occasions when she wasn’t too tired to just make him the instant kind.

“Good?” Keith asked, watching Shiro with interest. Maybe he was worried Shiro wouldn’t like his cooking. Sometimes people got really funny about that. His Baba always looked like she might faint when she invited neighbors over for dinner, worried they wouldn’t like what she cooked, which was crazy since she was the best cook in the entire world. Or so Shiro had thought. Keith’s macaroni and cheese was possibly better than his grandma’s. Not that he would ever tell her that.

“Really good,” Shiro nodded, shoveling in a second too-big bite before he’d even finished chewing the first. 

Keith ducked his head and smiled to himself, taking a bite of his own. Shiro momentarily forgot he was supposed to be watching Keith to figure out what exactly was going on in favor of devouring his food. It wasn’t until he was scraping his spoon along the bottom of his bowl and had chugged two full glasses of water that the ache in his stomach lessened. It was only then that he noticed that Keith was watching him, his own bowl still full.

“What?” Shiro asked, suddenly self conscious.

“You were really hungry.” Keith didn’t say it in a judgmental way but it annoyed Shiro just a little bit anyway.

Shiro shrugged as if it meant nothing, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Keith asked, looking concerned. 

“It’s okay.” Shiro didn’t want to talk about how he hadn’t wanted to draw more attention to himself; how his hunger had paled in comparison to his fear, or how much he hated asking for things. 

“It’s not,” Keith said, some of the macaroni and cheese falling off his spoon. He clenched his jaw and stabbed his spoon into his bowl. Shiro blinked, holding his breath. He had no idea what he’d done to make Keith mad. “If you need something, anything, Shiro. You can tell me. If you’re hungry or scared or anything. Anything, you hear me?”

Shiro stared at Keith in shock, unsure how to respond. Maybe he wasn’t mad at Shiro after all. Well, nothing up to this point made sense anyway. He shouldn’t really be that surprised.

“I mean it, Shiro. You can always come to me. I promise. And I don’t break promises.”

“Why?” Shiro asked quietly. 

Keith’s entire demeanor changed. He folded his hands on top of the table and leaned forward looking at Shiro with a look Shiro couldn't begin to understand. “It’s just important to me to keep my word. Someone very important to me once promised me he would never give up on me and I didn’t believe him. But he kept his word. Even when it killed him, literally. He showed me what a promise really meant, and I swore that I would do my best to always do the same.”

“Oh, uh—no. Not that. I mean,” Shiro paused, scratching his nail against the top of the wooden table. “Why are you taking care of me? Why do you care?”

For the first time, Keith looked lost for words. “You really don’t remember me, do you?”

“Am I supposed to? Have we met?” Shiro asked. His alien theory surged to the forefront of his mind. He started to think it was far-fetched even for him, but this was making him reconsider things. Maybe he’d been kidnapped by aliens, and they’d stolen his memories. Something about the idea of his own memories missing made his blood run cold, and he dug his nails into the palm of his hand. He couldn’t imagine someone making him forget his life. He couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying than that. 

“Yeah, you could say that. But uh…it was a long time ago when we first met.”

“Oh,” Shiro breathed. He sure didn’t remember Keith, and usually Shiro was good at remembering things. “Sorry, I don’t remember you. So does that mean…do you know my grandparents? Are they okay?” His voice shook as he asked, but thankfully Keith didn’t mention it.

“I’ve never met them myself but...but—” he stopped, rubbing his hands on his jaw. “They were so proud of you. They care about you so much, Shiro.”

Shiro blushed, well aware that his grandparents spent too much of their time bragging about him. His grandpa once almost got kicked out of his weekly coffee meeting with his men’s club for taking up the entire get-together talking about Shiro’s first-place science fair project. Sometimes it was kinda embarrassing, especially when his grandma pulled out photos of Shiro in the grocery store to show off to the cashiers—when Shiro was standing right there. Most of the time, though, it was kinda nice to know he’d made them so proud. Sometimes he wondered if his parents would’ve been proud of him. 

“Well then where are they? Are they okay? How come we’ve met before? How come I don’t remember you? Was I kidnapped? Are you an alien? Is this really the Garrison?” Once all the questions were out Shiro slammed his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to blurt them all out at once like that. It had just sort of, well, happened.

“Wow,” Keith chuckled, rapping his fingers on the table. “I was wondering when this would happen. I’m surprised you lasted this long to be honest.”

“So you’ll tell me then?” Shiro asked hopefully.

“I’ll tell you what I can. Some things…well, some things I can’t tell you. And it’s not because I don’t want to but because it’s not up to me and everyone who cares about you just wants to keep you safe and healthy.”

“I’m fine,” Shiro grumbled, tired of people talking about his health. He wanted answers, not people worrying about whether he might have a flare-up because he got too upset. “I can handle the truth. Whatever it is. So tell me.”

Keith cocked his head to the side, observing Shiro with unflinching intensity. It made Shiro shift in his seat but he didn’t look away. “What do you wanna know first?”

“Where are my grandparents?”

“Ah, starting with a tough one, huh?” He tried to smile at Shiro, but Shiro didn’t feel much like smiling back. “They’re not here, buddy. But I promise you they’re not in danger.”

That wasn’t the least bit helpful. He still had no idea where exactly they were. He didn’t even know if Keith was telling him the truth. Except something made Shiro want to believe him, and he let Keith’s words settle in his chest. His grandparents were safe. It might not be all the information he’d hoped to get but it was enough to make the knot of worry in his stomach lessen. 

“So how did I get here?” Shiro asked.

“You passed out. Then you got brought here to see if the doctors might be able to help you and you’ve been here since.”

Shiro frowned. “I don’t remember passing out.”

“It was a couple days ago and you…well, you know.” Keith trailed off, waving a hand in the air. Shiro definitely did not know.

“That doesn’t make any sense. The Garrison is two hundred and ninety-five miles from my house. I checked on the map when I got the brochures in the mail. Why didn’t they just take me to the children’s hospital where they always take me? It’s so much closer.”

Keith didn’t answer right away, almost as if he was thinking over his words. “This is the best place for you. The people here have the best resources to try and make sure you’re healthy.”

Shiro sighed as he dropped his chin into his hands. Healthy. There was that word again. Shiro was beginning to hate that word. It dictated everything about the way people treated him. For all everyone was always telling Shiro he could be just like everyone else, they sure as heck managed to make him feel different.

 _We just want you to be healthy,_ his grandparents would say as they monitored everything he ate and drank, when he slept, and it sometimes made him feel like they wanted him to live in a bubble.

 _We want you to be healthy,_ his teachers would say as they kept him on the sidelines during P.E. instead of letting him play even though he felt fine.

 _We want you to be healthy,_ the doctors told him every month as they poked and prodded and tested and recorded and made him feel anything but healthy.

Everyone was always so busy saying what they wanted for Shiro, they never asked Shiro what he wanted.

“So you’ve got brochures from the Garrison?” Keith asked, withdrawing Shiro from his thoughts. “How come?”

“Because I’m gonna go here someday,” Shiro told him, sitting up a little straighter. He jutted out his chin as he waited for Keith to mention that Shiro was too little to be thinking that far ahead, or for him to bring up the fact that he might not pass the fitness examination required for admission. It’s what everyone did when they found out that Shiro wanted to go to space. He hated it. He hated it so much.

“What do you want to do when you get into the Garrison?” Keith asked.

Oh. That was, well, Shiro didn’t know exactly what that was. No one had ever asked him that after finding out his dreams of attending the Garrison.

“I’m going to be a pilot,” Shiro said, dropping his hands to the table. “I’m gonna go to space one day.”

“Those are some pretty big dreams,” Keith observed. He was smiling, and Shiro’s stomach fell, waiting for the dream big, but not too big speech to come. It was too much to expect otherwise. Except when Keith spoke again, that didn't come. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Shiro’s face split open in a wide smile. “Yeah, I can.”

He liked Keith. He liked him a lot.

***

“You, uh, want me to read to you before bed or anything?” Keith asked, hovering in the doorway.

Shiro shook his head. “I’m kinda big for a bedtime story. I’m not a baby.”

He was pretty sure his grandparents hadn’t read him a bedtime story since he was six.

“No, of course you’re not. I know that. I was just, you know…offering. Not because I think you can’t read or anything, just you know.” He trailed off for a second, shoving his hands into his pockets. It was weird because he almost looked a little nervous even though he had no reason to be. Keith was the one who lived here after all. If anyone should’ve been nervous it was Shiro. Which he wasn’t. Because he could take care of himself just fine, thank you very much. “When I was really little my dad used to read to me every night and then, well, one day he had to stop. Even when I got older, though, sometimes I still wished he could. I’m not sure if you ever get too old to have someone read to you. It’s nice. But I don’t have to, of course. I can just let you get to sleep if you want.”

“My grandma used to read to me,” Shiro said softly, unsure exactly why he was telling Keith. “When I was little I mean. She read to me before bed every night, and then she’d read to me when I was stuck in the hospital when there was nothing good on the television. Usually I read to her now though. Just stuff from the newspaper if her hands are busy because she’s sewing or sometimes I read the recipes to her when she’s cooking because her eyes aren’t so good and she mixes up the amounts of ingredients.” Shiro stopped, chewing on the inside of his lip before he said the next part. “Sometimes I tell her to put extra sugar in when she makes me cookies so they’re sweeter.”

Keith leaned against the doorway looking like he was trying not to laugh. “That’s a little sneaky, and sweet—literally and figuratively. You’re not as innocent as you look, huh?”

Then he did something Shiro definitely wasn’t expecting and winked.

Shiro ducked his head and grinned, an unexpected warmth in his his cheeks at the idea that maybe he’d impressed Keith. It was stupid, but he kind of wanted to do it again. He liked the idea that maybe Keith didn’t think he was a helpless little kid who needed to be coddled the same way other grown-ups did. Then again Keith wasn’t like other grown-ups.

He wondered what kind of stuff Keith might think was cool and wracked his brain to think of anything else he’d done that might impress him. Then he got the perfect memory and opened his mouth to tell Keith about the time he’d convinced his grandpa to let him try out the hoverbike in the backyard, and alright, maybe it had been parked and he hadn’t actually driven it but he’d got to sit on it and boy was it cool. Except all that came out was a yawn. He tried again and another yawn stopped him.

Keith laughed, reaching a hand out almost as if he were going to touch Shiro’s hair then dropping his hand to his side as if he’d changed his mind. “You’ve had a long day, it’s time you got some sleep. But like I said earlier, my room is across the hallway and you can wake me up if you need to, alright? And I’ll be up for awhile in the living room if you need anything.”

“I’m not tired,” Shiro said through another traitorous yawn.

“Sure.”

“I’m not,” Shiro lied, pouting. 

“Your pout looks exactly the same,” Keith said, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“Same as what?” Shiro asked.

“Uh, nothing. Sorry. Just, uh, I know someone who pouts exactly like that when he doesn’t get what he wants and you reminded me of him. It’s cute.”

“I’m not cute,” Shiro mumbled. His face felt really hot.

“Of course, you’re too big to be cute huh?” Keith teased. This time Keith did reach out, ruffling Shiro’s hair. He wasn’t sure why it made his cheeks feel even hotter. “Alright, well you know where to find me if you need me. Unless you changed your mind about that story?”

Truthfully, the idea of a bedtime story suddenly sounded really good. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone. But he also didn’t want to admit to Keith who maybe possibly thought he was kinda cool that he was a little scared and needed a bedtime story. So he didn’t.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Alright, well goodnight, Shiro.”

“Goodnight,” Shiro whispered, the strange ache in his chest eclipsing the aching in his bones.

Shiro waited until Keith was out of sight before taking two more steps back into the bedroom and shutting the door. Enough light from the living room flooded in beneath the door that the room wasn’t pitch dark, but it was still dark enough that Shiro had a hard time making his way around the unfamiliar room. He knew he could turn the light on, but then Keith would know he wasn’t planning on going to bed and might get upset. He’d seen Keith angry with the doctors enough to know he’d rather Keith didn’t get that upset with him.

With a heavy sigh he flopped down onto the small bed Keith had made up for him in the spare room. It was pretty comfortable for a roll-away bed all things considered. The sheets still smelled like fabric softener and the dark red blanket Keith had given him was soft. It was nice. Really nice. And not Shiro’s bed.

He rolled over, shoving his face into the pillow and trying not to cry. The bed was nice and Keith was nice and so far everyone was nice. But Shiro didn’t care about nice. Not when his wrists hurt worse than they had in years and his eyes burned as he squeezed them shut too hard. He didn’t want to be alone in the dark with nothing but his own thoughts. He didn’t want to sleep.

At home, Baba usually left the door cracked so Shiro could hear the sounds of the television as he drifted to sleep, and Jiji always turned on the star projection machine he’d gotten for Christmas so the room wasn’t too dark. When Shiro couldn’t sleep he’d stare at the stars swirling on his ceiling and listen to his grandparent’s hushed voices and know he wasn’t alone. He felt alone now.

There was no sound from the living room. The only sound Shiro could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. When the oppressive darkness behind his closed eyes became too much he rolled onto his back, blinking at the ceiling. If he tried hard enough he could almost imagine there were stars glittering above him. Almost.

Stuck in the dark with nothing but his own thoughts Shiro couldn’t ignore the way his wrists ached and his ankles throbbed. He needed his bracelets and his stretches. Probably a hot bath too with that stuff Baba put in when it was really bad—some kind of eucalyptus bath salts that Shiro hated the smell of but definitely helped. Except Shiro wasn’t at home and Baba wasn’t here and he needed to ignore it. It would go away eventually. It always did. Flare-ups were normal, especially when under stress. It was something the doctors had drilled into his grandparents. Shiro privately thought the most stressful thing in the world was being treated like he was sick all the time, but no one asked him what he thought, only how he felt.

Long minutes passed as Shiro tried to stay calm, but the silence was too loud and the dark was too, well, dark. Unable to stay any longer he sat up and swung his legs over the bed. He hesitated at the door then thought of Keith’s words and turned the knob. As he walked down the hallway he almost worried that Keith wasn’t up, despite the lights on. It was just so quiet. He slowed his steps at the end of the hallway, peeking out into the living room. Sure enough, there was Keith—wedged into the corner of his sofa reading. His face was screwed up like he wasn’t very happy with what he was reading and Shiro thought maybe coming out was a bad idea when Keith suddenly looked up from his book at caught sight of Shiro despite his attempts to stay mostly hidden in the hall.

“Oh hey, Shiro. Everything okay?” he asked. He closed his book and set it on the coffee table.

Shiro took two steps forward so he was standing in the living room. This was probably okay. He’d spent all day with Keith so far and after the macaroni and cheese Keith had let him ask questions about everything and nothing for hours without seeming annoyed at him. Keith seemed cool. He probably wouldn’t be upset with Shiro. Probably.

“I’m thirsty,” Shiro said, blurting out the first thing he could think of. It sounded better than _I’m scared to be alone._

“I’ll get you some water,” Keith answered, immediately hopping off the couch and moving to the kitchen. Shiro hovered in the hallway unsure where to go as he watched Keith fill up a glass of water. Would he give it to Shiro and expect him to go back to the bedroom, or would he be okay if Shiro stayed in the living room? Just for a little bit.

Thankfully Shiro was spared having to ask if he could stay by Keith returning to the couch and patting the cushion beside him. Shiro crossed the room quickly, scooting back into the cushions and curling his legs beneath him as he took the water from Keith. He wasn’t actually thirsty but he drank it anyway, just to have something to do. Keith didn;t say anything, just watching him quietly. Shiro watched him back. In the short time Shiro had been in the spare room Keith had changed into his pajamas—a t-shirt that said I Believe in Aliens and a pair of pajama pants with tiny green aliens and spaceships on them. He wasn’t sure what he thought someone as cool as Keith would sleep in, but it wasn’t that.

“Nice pajamas,” Shiro said, once he’d drained his water glass and had nothing left to do.

Keith looked down at his legs and snorted. “They were a Christmas present from…from a friend. He thought they were funny. He has a terrible sense of humor.”

“I like them,” Shiro told Keith, which wasn’t a lie. They were really funny.

For some reason his response made Keith smile. “Just between you and me I do too, but I can’t tell my friend or he’ll never let me live it down.”

“Do you really believe in aliens?” Shiro asked, setting his glass down on the coffee table.

“Definitely,” Keith answered immediately.

Shiro couldn’t contain his shock. “ _Really_?”

“Oh yeah. I mean the universe is like what, ten billion years old? And we can’t even begin to guess how vast it is. Sort of egotistical to think we’re the only ones, right? Besides, I've got a few personal stakes in believing aliens are real.”

“The closest guess is that the universe is about thirteen point eight billion years old,” Shiro corrected. Then blushed when Keith’s eyebrows rose into his fringe. “You know, give or take.”

“My mistake, thirteen point eight,” Keith said.

“Actually,” Shiro continued, urged on by the fact that Keith didn’t seem to mind being corrected, “most of our stars are only about twelve billion years old. But they’ve found some that they think are at least fourteen and a half billion years. Which is pretty crazy right? Because the universe isn’t even old enough to have stars that old.”

Keith nodded. “Very crazy. Doesn’t make much sense to be honest.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agreed. “It’s pretty cool though, right? Just means there’s a lot we don’t know about space yet. But one day we will.”

“It’s definitely cool, alright. You really, really love the stars don’t you?”

Shiro pulled his legs up to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. He liked the stars, they never changed no matter what anyone else said or did. No one could stop them from doing what they were born to do—burn bright then die. “Yeah, I like them a lot.”

“Sounds like you’d fit right in at the Garrison then,” Keith said.

“Is that why you’re here? Because you love the stars too?” Shiro asked.

Keith exhaled, tapping his fingers together in his lap. “I like the stars alright, but what I really love is to fly. Don’t get me wrong, space is cool, but for me it was never about where I was going, just that I was the one deciding where I might go. When I’m behind the pilot seat everything else in the world fades away and I feel,” he paused, staring at the wall, “I feel free.”

Shiro watched Keith as he looked at Shiro and grinned. He looked kind of embarrassed but he smiled at Shiro, and Shiro returned the smile. 

“I wanna fly some day too. My grandparents said I’m not old enough to learn yet but once I’m bigger I’m gonna learn to fly and be the best pilot the Garrison has ever seen. Then they’ll have to let me go to space because I’ll be so good they won’t be able to say no, no matter what,” he told him, rubbing at his wrists.

“You’ll do it, Shiro. I know you will.” Keith said it like there was no doubt, and it made Shiro feel ten feet tall again. His grandparents always told him he could do anything he put his mind to, but beneath it all he knew they were worried his dreams were too big. They’d already lost Shiro’s parents, and he’d heard them whispering about being afraid of losing Shiro when they thought he was asleep. But Shiro didn’t think his dreams were too big. And neither, apparently, did Keith.

“Thanks,” he whispered, hugging his legs tighter. “How come you didn’t fly somewhere else then? I mean if you just loved to fly you could’ve flown anywhere right, so how come the Garrison. It’s the hardest flight program to get into in the country. You’ve gotta be really good.”

“I mean between you and me I am really good,” Keith shot back. He winked again and that funny warmth in Shiro’s face returned. He rubbed his cheek against his knees and hoped Keith couldn’t tell. “I love space, a lot, but it wasn’t something I had ever considered. I didn’t consider a lot back then to be honest. There weren’t many opportunities for a kid like me. But I met a boy who loved the stars as much as me and—” Keith paused, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. “Let’s just say he made me believe in a lot of things I didn’t before.”

“Like aliens?” Shiro asked, wondering if it was the same friend.

Keith blinked then laughed quietly. “Yeah, like aliens. The future. Myself. He’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met. You’d like him.”

“Can I meet him? Does he work at the Garrison too?” Shiro asked, curiosity blossoming. He tried to imagine what kind of person could be cool enough to impress someone like Keith.

“He does. But he’s busy right now with some top secret stuff so you can’t meet him. One day maybe. Between you and me, he’s the most important person at the Garrison…in the whole world really. Not that he believes it.”

“Wow,” Shiro breathed. He wondered if someone might think he was that important one day too. He hoped so.

“Yeah, he’s pretty amazing. But I shouldn’t keep you, I’m probably boring you. Besides you’ve gotta be pretty tired. It’s been a really long day.”

Shiro swallowed, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach at the idea of going back to the spare room to sleep. Alone. Alone and dark. His throat felt tight, and he opened his mouth, trying to find an excuse to stay but nothing would come out. He sniffled, blinking away the moisture at his eyes. He absolutely was not going to cry in front of Keith and look like a baby.

“Unless,” Keith started, tapping his fingers on his chin, “unless maybe…you wanna stay out here with me for a little longer. Between you and me I have a lot of trouble sleeping so I could really use the company. You’d be doing me a favor.”

Shiro blinked, hiding his face in his knees as he tried to wipe away the tears without Keith noticing. “I could do that,” he mumbled.

He felt Keith’s fingers ruffling his hair for a few seconds before the couch moved. 

Shiro hesitantly lifted his face to see Keith moving away. “Where are you going?”

“To make popcorn,” Keith answered as if it were obvious. “If we’re gonna stay up we definitely need snacks.”

“I like popcorn,” Shiro answered, voice quiet.

Keith smiled. “Me too, buddy.”

***

Shiro awoke slowly, eyes fluttering open as he snuggled deeper into the pillow beneath his head. He didn’t even remember falling asleep, but he was so warm and comfortable he must’ve drifted off. He turned his head and saw the evidence of the snacks he and Keith had worked their way through—empty bowls of popcorn and cookie and candy wrappers on the coffee table—while watching some cartoon Shiro had never heard of. Until apparently he’d fallen asleep. Normally Shiro didn’t usually wake up too much in the middle of the night so he was pretty sure it must be morning, but the room was lit up only by the kitchen light—set low on a dimmer. The rest of the apartment was bathed in darkness, which meant that Shiro had no idea what time it might be since Keith’s apartment was buried so deeply within the maze of the Garrison there was only artificial light. There wasn’t even an actual window to the outside in Keith’s apartment. At least Shiro didn’t think so. Unless there was one in Keith’s bedroom. It was the only room he hadn’t seen. He supposed it was a possibility, but it wasn’t very likely given the location.

He couldn’t even imagine living in a place without windows. He wondered if any of the cadet housing had them or if the entire Garrison was closed off like a giant tin can. The idea of living without sunlight or stars was unthinkable to Shiro, who normally slept with his curtains pulled wide open and his bed shoved beneath the big window in his room so he could fall asleep each night looking at the stars.

A grunt drew Shiro’s attention to the opposite end of the sofa where Keith was curled up in a ball, buried so deeply beneath a black blanket Shiro hadn’t even noticed he was there. Keith made the noise again, moving beneath his blanket until his arm slipped out from beneath the blanket. Shiro sat up, scooting as far back into his own corner as he could to make enough room for Keith, who didn’t look very comfortable. In fact it looked like he’d contorted himself into the smallest space possible. Shiro wondered if he always slept like that or if he was just trying to make sure Shiro—who had been stretched out on most of the sofa—had enough room. 

Carefully Shiro pushed the blanket off his lap, letting it fall into a pile on the floor as he slid off the sofa. Keith shifted in his sleep again, kicking the blanket to the end of the sofa and letting out a quiet snore. Shiro stood there staring, unsure what to do when the sudden need to pee hit him. Moving as quietly but quickly as possible he stepped over the blanket and the remotes on the floor, tiptoeing to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. 

Once he’d peed and washed his hands, he headed back to the living room where Keith was still sound asleep. The only difference was that this time he was stretched out across the entire length of the sofa—arms and legs dangling off it like an overgrown octopus. Shiro giggled then clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. Keith didn’t stir.

Still unsure what to do, he made his way towards Keith’s bookshelves, fingers dragging across the spines of books—some he recognized, most he didn’t. His fingers moved across rows and rows of books. Most looked pristine as if they’d never really been read. At least until he got to the last book on the second row. He traced over the worn spine of the book Shiro had checked out of the library last week— _Cosmos_ by Carl Sagan— but that was still sitting on his desk unread because of the mountains of homework his teacher had assigned.

Pulling the book from the shelf he hugged it to his chest and settled down on the floor to read, back resting against the wooden shelves. It wasn’t exactly comfortable but Shiro didn’t want to risk waking Keith.

Setting the book in his lap he examined it more closely. It was really worn, the spine cracked and peeling and corners bent. Flipping through the book he could see that several pages had been dog-eared and one page in particular had a spot of text that was nearly rubbed away. Deciding to start at the very beginning, he flipped back to the title page and smoothed it open flat in his lap. Written in neat handwriting that would’ve made Baba proud—she was always trying to get Shiro to work on his, but he wasn’t very good yet—was a short note that took up most of the page.

__

K, 

I know I’m going to be away for awhile so I thought I’d pass along my favorite book to you. This got me through a lot and I hope it might be some comfort to you too. No matter how far away I get, we will still be looking at the same stars. As Sagan would say, we are made of starstuff. 

—S

P.S. Don’t forget to study hard and log a lot of practice hours while I’m gone because as soon as I get back from Kerberos, I’m going to wipe the floor with your Sim scores.

Shiro nearly dropped the book. He couldn’t believe that someone had been all the way to Kerberos and the Garrison had managed to keep it a secret. Just as incredible, he couldn’t believe Keith knew someone who had been farther than anyone Shiro had ever read about.

It hit Shiro then that he was touching a book that had once been owned by someone who had been to space. Really been there. And not just to space but to the farthest reaches of the galaxies and beyond.

Shiro didn’t know who the heck this S guy was, but he was Shiro’s new hero.

***

“So, do you really know someone who went to Kerberos?” Shiro asked. He’d been working up the courage to ask Keith about the note in the book for the better part of the entire day. Eventually he’d decided the best course of action was to just blurt it out, kind of like pulling off a band aid.

“What?” Keith croaked. The puzzle piece he’d been holding slipped from his fingers and fell to the table, once again mixed with the pile of pieces that all looked nearly identical. 

Shiro waited for Keith to say something else, but he just stared at Shiro as if he saw a ghost. 

“Kerberos,” Shiro said again. There was no going back now anyway. “I uh…read one of your books while you were sleeping and there was a note in the front. I didn’t mean to be nosy. I didn’t know it would be there when I got the book.”

“You read _Cosmos_ ,” Keith said, voice returning to its normal pitch. “Of all the books you picked that one.”

“Sorry,” Shiro apologized, dropping his eyes to the table in front of him. He poked at a small piece of the puzzle he’d managed to get so far—just a few pieces in the bottom corner showing off the bottom of Jupiter.

“No, Shiro. You don’t need to apologize. You’re welcome to make yourself at home for as long as you’re here. I was just surprised is all. I haven’t read that book in a very long time. After my friend gave it to me, I used to read it every single day while he was gone. At one point I think I could’ve recited the entire book by memory. I thought maybe if I understood the book—understood the cosmos—it might bring him back.” He tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace. “It’s a good book.”

“Is it the friend you said I’d like. The one doing secret missions?” Shiro asked, shuffling through the pile of almost identical puzzle pieces pretending to search for another piece for his little corner.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“So, uh—did your friend really go all the way to Kerberos?” Shiro asked again, peeking at Keith from beneath the hair falling in his eyes.

To his surprise, Keith’s previous shock had given way to something resembling a smile as he spoke. “He did. Can you keep a secret?”

Shiro nodded so aggressively his chair moved. “I’m really, really good at keeping secrets.”

“He went even farther than Kerberos. To the very edges of the galaxy. Farther than any human ever had before him.”

“Whoa,” Shiro breathed, abandoning all pretenses of pretending to work on the puzzle and instead turning his focus on Keith. “What was it like? Did he like it? How far did he go? Did he get lonely being all the way up in outer space? Do they let you have macaroni and cheese in space?”

Keith laughed. “Between you and me, I think macaroni and cheese might have been the thing he missed most while he was up there.”

“Yeah, I think I’d miss that a lot too but,” he paused, thinking about his Baba bent over the stove making macaroni and cheese in her floral nightgown while Jiji listened to the radio. He thought of the way they sat together playing cards after Shiro went to bed and the way they both helped him with his homework after school. He thought of the way Baba always smelled like the jasmine perfume she liked, and Jiji smelled like the caramel candies he kept in his front pocket. “I think I’d miss my family the most,” Shiro confessed. “But once I get back from space it’ll be so cool to be able to tell my grandparents all about it. Did your friend miss his family too?”

Keith poked at the puzzle pieces as his lips thinned at the corners. “He didn’t have any family left.”

“Oh,” Shiro breathed, trying to imagine being all alone. It seemed so sad. Especially the idea of going across the galaxies knowing no was at home waiting for you. “But he had you. If I had a best friend who thought I was that special I think I’d miss them a lot.”

“Thanks,” Keith said. He smiled again but there was something sad about it. “I uh, gotta go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

He pushed his chair out and walked away slowly. While he was gone Shiro continued to work on the puzzle, pleased when he found three pieces that made up the corner of the rings of Jupiter. He ignored the sound of Keith’s approaching footsteps, desperately trying to find the first piece of Jupiter itself before Keith returned but no luck. When he heard Keith’s chair being pulled back he finally tore his eyes away from the puzzle and up intending to show off the progress he’d made when he caught sight of Keith’s face—blotchy cheeks and eyes red. He’d been crying.

Something twisted up in Shiro’s stomach. Grown-ups hardly ever cried. He’d only seen his grandparents cry a few times and always in secret, as if they needed to hide their sadness so Shiro wouldn’t feel bad he didn’t have parents or was sick. He wondered what had made Keith cry, if maybe he’d done something.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asked, puzzle pieces forgotten.

“Huh, me? I’m good,” Keith answered. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Shiro wasn’t sure if he should ask again. He was spared the decision when Keith began to talk again. “Wow, did you do all that while I was in the bathroom? That’s amazing.”

Shiro looked down at the small section of the puzzle he’d managed to complete while Keith was gone. It wasn’t amazing. Not really. Decent maybe but not amazing. But the idea that Keith thought so made him flush with pride. He liked being good at things. He really liked it.

“I bet I could finish my side before you,” Keith said, dropping his hand onto a pile of puzzle pieces and pulling them closer. Shiro made a face as he eyed Keith’s completed section, which was way smaller. The odds of him beating Shiro were not good.

“No way. I’m definitely better at this than you.”

Keith’s expression changed into one Shiro couldn’t place. “You wanna bet on that?”

“I don’t have anything to bet,” Shiro answered.

“I’ve got a bag of Starbursts hidden in the kitchen. Winner gets it.”

Shiro’s eyes widened. He loved Starburst. “Oh man, I’m gonna beat you so bad.”

“Guess we’ll see about that, won’t we.”

Shiro grinned. Staying with Keith was turning out to be kind of fun.

***

Bored. Shiro was so bored. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been more bored in his entire life, which was really saying something since Shiro was used to being stuck in boring places like doctors’ offices and hospitals and bunco games.

The novelty of staying with Keith had worn off halfway through the third day when Shiro had realized that despite him feeling absolutely fine, neither he nor Keith were supposed to leave the apartment. They’d worked their way through Keith’s very small collection of movies, completed two 1000 piece puzzles, and exhausted every card game Shiro knew how to play—which was only gin rummy, five card draw, and go fish.

Keith’s apartment, which had seemed cool at first now seemed, well—small. 

He was tired of being stuck inside, tired of not being able to see the stars and tired of being given excuses as to when he could leave or where his grandparents were.

“Wanna play go fish again?”

“No.” Shiro kicked his legs up onto the back of the sofa and hung his head off the edge so he was staring at Keith’s television upside down.

“We could do one of the puzzles again.”

“Boring.”

“I could call my friend Pidge and see if she could dig anymore board games out of storage.”

“I’m tired of playing games,” Shiro complained. If Baba could see him now she would’ve scolded him for being petulant and having his feet on the couch. But she wasn’t here. No one was.

“What do you want to do?” Keith asked. His voice was calm, but he was tapping his fingers against his knee and had been for the last twenty minutes.

“Go somewhere,” Shiro replied. “Anywhere.”

“We’re not supposed to leave this room,” Keith answered. It wasn’t a no but it wasn’t a yes.

Shiro sighed and turned his lips down in a pout. “I’m bored.”

“I know, buddy. I’m sorry. Everyone just wants to keep you safe and—”

“The Garrison is supposed to be one of the safest places in the country! That’s why it's so hard to get into. So much security. Nothing’s gonna happen to me just walking around the hallways. I’m fine.” As if to prove his point he wiggled his arms and legs, flailing around like a fish out of water. A stabbing pain shot through his wrist, but he smiled through the pain. If he told Keith it was getting worse, he definitely wouldn’t let Shiro out of the apartment and he was going to go crazy if he was stuck inside much longer.

“They said—”

“Who are they?” Shiro interrupted, sitting up straighter and trying to give Keith his most grown up look. “You don’t go here right? I know you’re not a student. So they can’t tell you what to do. You’re a grown-up.”

“No, I’m definitely not a student,” Keith agreed. Something about his expression told Shiro he was on the right track.

“I guess you’re not in charge though.”

Keith’s lips thinned. “I’m not not in charge.”

“So then if you decided that it was alright then we could probably sneak out, right? Just for a little bit? You’re so smart I bet you know all the ways to get around without being seen. And I’ll be with you so its not like anything could happen. We’d just be exploring. Please.” He batted his eyelashes a few times, giving Keith the same sweet face he gave Baba when he wanted seconds of dessert.

“Ah, shit.” Keith ran a hand through his hair, puffing up his cheeks with air and then blowing it out. He glanced at the clock on the wall. “It is dinner time. Everyone will be in the mess hall for the next half hour at least.”

Shiro nearly fell off the couch in his excitement. “So we can go?”

“If we do. And I mean _if_ —then you’d need to do exactly like I say and be very quiet and stay close to me the entire time. No running off no matter how excited you get or what you see. Do you think you could do that?”

Shiro nodded. “Yes, definitely. I’m really good at listening. And at being quiet.”

Keith sighed, glancing at the clock again. Shiro held his breath and waited, watching Keith as he had some sort of internal debate with himself.

“Right, I have an idea. I just need to call a friend. Hang tight, okay?”

“Okay,” Shiro agreed. He would have agreed to almost anything for the chance to sneak around the Garrison with Keith.

Keith blew out another breath then hopped up from the couch, walking over to the kitchen and grabbing his datapad. He tapped the screen a few times, a quiet ring sounding out before a face appeared on the screen. 

“Oh, hi, Keith. Everything okay?” the person asked. Shiro leaned over the edge of the couch to try and get a better look at the screen. The face on the video call was so familiar. He was pretty sure he’d seen her in the hospital. She must’ve been a friend of Keith’s.

“Hey, Pidge. I need a favor.”

Pidge. Her name was Pidge. Shiro filed it away in case it was important to know later.

“Are we talking you want me to get you extra cookies from the mess hall favor or I need to set up a private transmission link before you tell me favor?”

“The second one,” Keith answered. 

To Shiro’s surprise, Pidge smiled.

“Sweet. Just give me a minute,” she said, tapping her screen. The call abruptly ended. 

Shiro desperately wanted to know what was going on, but he held back his questions, afraid of doing something that might change Keith’s mind. Barely a half a minute later Keith’s datapad buzzed, and he tapped the incoming call button. Pidge’s face took up the entire screen. She was smiling again. 

“So, what kind of trouble are you trying to get yourself into? Or out of? And where is Shiro?” she asked. Keith angled the datapad towards the couch. “Oh there he is. Hey, Shiro.”

Shiro waved, unsure how she knew him. “Hello.”

Keith turned the screen back on himself, though thankfully not so much that Shiro couldn’t still see it. “So think you can help us? It might be a little difficult, even for you.”

Pidge snorted. “Please, I could hack into the entire space program if I wanted to. Whatever you want, I can guarantee it’ll be easy. Well for me. Not for other people. But definitely for me.”

“I want to take him to the lions.”

Shiro’s mind raced. The Garrison had lions?

Pidge whistled. “Okay that’s…yeah that might be tricky. Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“They’re completely dormant right now. Nothing will happen. I just want to show him. Besides, it’s the only place in the entire Garrison where there won’t be any people. I know I can get us there and back unnoticed. I just need you to get the door unlocked when we get there. I mean…if you’re up for it. Might be above even your abilities.”

“Excuse me,” Pidge choked. “Nothing is above my abilities, thank you very much.”

“So then you’ll do it?” Keith asked.

“It’s for you and Shiro. Of course I’ll do it. Just give me an hour. And Keith, be careful.”

“Of course I’ll be careful. I’d never let anything happen to Shiro.”

Shiro folded his arms on the couch, hiding his face. Normally he hated when people fussed over him, but something about Keith was different. He just didn’t understand why.

“I know you would,” Pidge said, voice quieter than before. “Right. Okay. I can definitely do this. One hour, got it? Be there at exactly 18:00.”

“Got it. And Pidge, thanks.”

Pidge grinned. 

“18:00,” she repeated, then ended the call.

The second the screen was black Shiro let the question he’d been holding back burst forth. “Why are there lions here?”

***

“So they’re robots?” Shiro asked. “Like giant lion robots.”

He’d been pestering Keith with questions nonstop since they’d left Keith’s apartment. Or trying to anyway. It was sort of hard to ask all the questions he really wanted to ask when he got shushed every few minutes and was supposed to be quiet so no one noticed them taking the back stairways and unused corridors to get to wherever these supposed lions were. Judging by the amount of stairs they’d had to descend, wherever they were heading was way underground.

“Yeah,” Keith answered, peeking around the bottom stairwell before motioning for Shiro to follow him.

“And they can really fly?” he queried, unable to believe Keith’s description. 

“Sure can, but they need someone to fly them. They need a pilot.”

Shiro opened his mouth intent on asking more, but Keith held up a hand to stop him. Shiro frowned but snapped his mouth shut, watching as Keith slowly reached out for the doorknob and cracked it open. The light from the stairwell spilled out into the dark hallway. Keith pushed the door open and peered down the hallway then reached back to rest a hand on Shiro’s back. Shiro followed him out into the hallway, expecting to see the lions but instead all he saw was a massive door.

Keith moved to stand directly in front of the door, pulling out his phone to check the time. “Just another minute.”

“Are they alive?” Shiro asked, heart starting to beat faster now that they were this close.

“Yes and no. They’re sentient. They respond to their pilot—to their paladin—they won’t fly for just anyone. But they’ve been asleep for a long time now.”

“How come? Don’t they have paladins anymore?”

“It’s complicated. They helped save a lot of people and now it’s time for them to rest. We—” but his words were cut off by the sound of his alarm beeping. He silenced it quickly, shoving it into his pocket and turning to smile at Shiro. “You ready?”

“Yes,” he answered, not about to admit he was a little bit scared. He didn’t think Keith was lying, not really. But giant lion robots who could fly into space were a lot to believe, even for him.

Keith stared at Shiro for several long seconds before turning back towards the door and placing his hand on the pad in the wall. The pad lit up, blue lights scanning up and down Keith’s hand. Shiro held his breath and waited, inhaling sharply when the doors made a loud screeching noise and slid open. The inside of the room was dark and Shiro couldn’t see a thing, moving to stand a little closer to Keith who slung an arm around Shiro’s shoulder and guided him through the door. He blinked, trying to get his eyes accustomed to the dark when the sound of the door shutting behind him made him jump.

“It’s okay, just a safety precaution so no one finds us,” Keith assured him, squeezing his shoulder.

As soon as the door slid shut the lights came on one by one flooding the room with so much light Shiro had to lift an arm to cover his eyes to shield them from the unexpected brightness. He blinked several times, waiting for his eyes to adjust, then his mouth fell open. This wasn’t a room. It was a cave.

Wherever they were wasn’t a small room like Shiro had expected but a massive hangar that was easily twice as big as Shiro’s entire school. It was huge. The left side of it was lined with rows and rows of jets. What really caught his eye though were the massive lion-shaped robots lying side by side on the far side of the hangar.

“They’re lions,” Shiro whispered, running forward and grabbing ahold of the railing and leaning forward. “They’re really lions!”

Keith laughed, ruffling Shiro’s hair. “I told you they were.”

“Yeah, but…but they’re real,” Shiro breathed. “Can we get closer?”

“Sure, but—”

Shiro didn’t wait for more, sprinting away from Keith and towards the stairs, running down them two at a time. Not even the ache in legs as he jumped down the stairs was enough to dull his excitement. Cool. This was so cool. It was the coolest thing Shiro had ever seen in his entire life. He’d known the Garrison was amazing, but he had no idea they had things like this hidden in their basement. 

“Be careful,” Keith yelled, but Shiro was too excited to slow down.

The closer he got the more in awe he was. The first one he saw was a green lion, smaller than the rest and crouched down. He reached a hand out, almost afraid to touch it. Not scared enough to actually not do it, though. He half expected an alarm to go off or the lion to roar to life and bite him, but nothing happened as he ran his hands down the robotic paw in awe. 

“God you’re fast for someone so small,” Keith said breathlessly, running up behind Keith.

“Sorry,” Shiro apologized automatically, not sorry at all. “They’re big.”

“They are.”

“I wonder what it’s like inside of them,” Shiro whispered, more to himself than Keith. He bent down to examine the green plating across the paw.

“Amazing,” Keith answered.

Shiro nearly fell on his butt, head jerking to look up at Keith. “You’ve been inside them?”

Keith nodded. “I did. Red was the first one I flew, then eventually I piloted Black too.”

Shiro’s eyes widened, and he took off running straight to the red lion sitting beside the green one. It was bigger than the green lion, and while it was obvious their basic designs were the same there was something different about it too. It was incredible. 

“You flew this?” he shouted, touching the side of the red one. “Like you actually got inside of this and flew it?”

“I did,” Keith answered, jogging to close the distance. He looked pretty proud, and Shiro didn’t blame him. If he ever got the chance to fly something like that, it would be one of the greatest things to ever happen to him. 

“Who flew the rest of them?” Shiro asked, trying to imagine what kind of people might be able to pilot something as incredible as this. 

“Pidge, the one who helped us get in here. She was the one who flew Green.”

“But she’s so small,” Shiro gasped, recalling her face through Keith’s datapad.

“Don’t let her size fool you. She’s fierce. Then there was—” but his speech was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. Keith’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he pulled it out. “Speaking of Pidge.” He tapped the answer button holding the phone to his ear. “Hey, I was just talking about you, everything okay?”

Keith hummed, looking concerned as he tapped Shiro on the shoulder. “Just stay right here, buddy. I need to talk to Pidge for a second, okay?” 

“Okay,” Shiro agreed, only half paying attention as Keith took a few steps away and lowered his voice to a whisper. Shiro tuned Keith’s conversation out after that, too excited by the lions to try and snoop on this call. Whatever it was he could ask Keith about it when he stopped talking.

“I can’t believe these are real,” he whispered to himself, dragging his hand along the underside of the red lion’s belly. Once he got to the other side he couldn’t help but keep going, desperate to see the other lions. The blue one was similar in size to the red one, and just as impressive. Further down was a yellow one the same size as the first green one. He wondered what they looked like in flight and turned around to ask Keith when he realized just how far away from Keith he’d gotten. He knew he should probably move back since Keith was facing the opposite direction, so distracted by his phone call he hadn’t even noticed Shiro had wandered. Then again, they were hidden away inside of a secret locked hanger, so it wasn’t like anything could happen to Shiro down here. Besides Keith had said stay here and he was actually leaving the hangar.

Mind made up, he kept going, moving around the yellow lion until he came face to face with the last lion—a black lion.

Shiro inhaled sharply, the breath stolen from his lungs as he laid eyes on it—not it, her. Shiro blinked, unsure how he knew it was a her as he took two steps closer, something inside of him itching to touch her. There was something different about her than the other lions. She was noticeably bigger but there was something else, something hard to explain. She was beautiful. 

There was something about her that called to Shiro, and without a second thought he closed the distance, reaching out his right hand and laying his palm on her cheek—fingers splayed out as he closed his eyes.

Nothing happened, and Shiro felt silly for thinking something might when the lion’s eyes flashed open. Shiro stumbled backward in surprise, falling onto his butt as she rose onto her hind legs and let out a deafening roar and opened her mouth.

Shiro was dimly aware of Keith screaming his name, but the uncontrollable urge to get closer was too strong to ignore. He could hear Keith’s footsteps echoing on the cement floor as he ran to Shiro but Shiro was even quicker, on his feet and sprinting inside the lion before Keith was close enough to stop him.

The second both his feet were inside of her the ground beneath him moved, and he fell to his knees as she clamped her jaws shut.

Shiro barely had a second to feel guilty for disobeying Keith when excruciating pain wracked his body, and then just as suddenly stopped as the entire world went black and Shiro crumpled to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

_Wake up_ a voice echoed in his brain.

Instead, Shiro dreamt of a clear sky full of stars and endless galaxies just out of reach.

 _Wake up_.

Shiro dreamt of a lion’s roar and flying through space with a kind of power and freedom he’d never known.

 _Wake up_.

Shiro dreamt of a landscape devoid of people, and a bone-deep loneliness that never ended.

 _Wake up_.

Shiro dreamt of violet eyes and a safe embrace.

 _Wake up_.

***

When Shiro woke up his head throbbed and his entire body ached—the floor beneath him hard as a rock. He rolled onto his back and stretched out his arms and legs in a futile attempt to get the stiffness out. When that didn’t immediately work he sat up, frowning when he realized he didn’t have a clue where he was. Then he looked down at his clothing, which was most definitely not what he’d put on before falling into bed the night before. Instead of his plain grey pajama pants and white tank top he was wearing a pair of way-too-small tan pants and an equally too small t-shirt with stars on it. Well, wearing was a pretty liberal term since the pants and shirt were so tight on him it bordered on painful, and they were quite literally ripping at the seams.

Damn it.

Faced with the prospect of ridding himself of the too-small clothing or wandering around fuck knew where butt naked, he left the clothes on and rose to a standing position. He closed his eyes and took two deep breaths, trying to regain his bearings. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up with no idea where he was, but the last time had been years ago and Shiro still wasn’t entirely sure that hadn’t been a hallucination. The memory of it was hazy but there just the same.

In fact, everything was a bit hazy. He shook his head, desperate to clear it, but all that happened was his head throbbed even worse.

“Where the hell am I?” Shiro muttered, eyes roaming around the room. Except it wasn’t a room, it looked like the inside of one of the spaceships the Garrison used for simulation training—it was a cockpit.

Walking towards the wall he stretched out an arm out and let his fingertips graze along the surface. The material—definitely not any metal Shiro had ever seen—was smooth as glass and warm to the touch, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. In fact the entire place was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Whatever this was, it definitely wasn’t Garrison built. 

Abandoning his inspection of the walls, he dropped his hand and turned to face the other side of the room. There was a single pilot chair in the middle of the cockpit facing a large wall and control panels. At least he thought they were control panels. It was hard to tell what was what since everything was dark. Shiro felt certain he should be panicking but all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of curiosity and the need to get closer.

He shuffled across the floor—his footsteps surprisingly silent—as he approached the control panel. Rule number one after waking up in an unknown place was that it was probably not a good idea to go poking around technology you didn’t understand. Except despite the unfamiliarity of it all, there was something in the back of Shiro’s mind that made him feel as if he’d been here before—as if he belonged here.

Tentatively reaching out, he laid his palm on the control panel and jumped when it flared to life—screens flashing in a language Shiro didn’t recognize and coordinates that were so far out of their own galaxy Shiro was sure it had to be a mistake. The light from the dash reflected off the wall above it, and Shiro realized it wasn’t a wall at all but a window—possibly cloaked with carbon nanotubes like the prototype ships the Garrison was developing.

“This is amazing,” Shiro breathed, dropping into the pilot seat. The background whirring noise increased as lights along the side of the chair lit up, almost as if the ship itself was responding to Shiro’s presence. It was impossible, and yet he could think of no other explanation. Again he recognized that something about this should definitely be making alarm bells go off, but all Shiro could do was lean back in the chair and smile.

He was in some sort of high-tech spacecraft of unknown origin with no clue how he’d gotten there. Objectively it was terrifying. It was also cool. 

It was so fucking cool.

Shiro barely had to appreciate just how cool it was when the sound of lights clicking on drew his attention. He swiveled around, looking around the pilot's chair to see the floor lit up in a line out of the cockpit and towards, well, who knew where. Not just a line. A path. A path Shiro had every intention of following even if the rational part of his brain was screaming at him that it was absolutely not normal for a spaceship to have any level of sentience. 

The logical part of Shiro’s brain however was drowned out by his curiosity and the insatiable need to discover more about where he was. So without letting himself think too hard about the wisdom of his actions, he got out of his seat and followed the lights at his feet. As he walked, more lights flickered on, continuing the pathway as he walked down a long, empty hallway and found himself standing before a door with no handle and no apparent way of opening it. Wondering if the ship might respond to his touch again he placed both hands against the door and waited. For a few painful seconds he thought nothing would happen, and then the door slid open.

Holding his breath, Shiro continued through the doorway. As he crossed the threshold he half expected the doorway to close behind him and trap him inside, but instead it remained open as low light flickered on. Shiro wasn’t sure what he expected to be inside the room, but it wasn’t what he saw before him.

It was a closet. Albeit an oversized closet, but a closet nonetheless. There was just enough room for Shiro and maybe one or two other people to squeeze inside, except it was just Shiro so he had plenty of room as he walked to the shelves piled high with packages that slightly resembled the kind of rations astronauts got in space, except they were covered in more of the unfamiliar language Shiro didn’t recognize. He picked one up and squeezed it, dropping it to the floor when the top popped off and green goo oozed out.

Abandoning the shelves in favor of checking the boxes piled in the corner he moved to them, prying open the top of the first one. Clothes. There were clothes. Well, clothes in the most liberal sense anyhow. As he pulled the first outfit from the box it looked less like clothing and more like some kind of space armor. There were several suits in the box, each with the same white plating, though some of it was edged in red. Confusion rose in Shiro. Where in the hell was he?

It made no sense. Nothing he’d seen since he woke up made any sense. He tried to think about the last thing he remembered, but the memories were hazy. Everything was hazy. Maybe he was going crazy. He had flashes of a man he’d met once, dreams of space lions and the Garrison long before he’d ever come here. Those memories were hazy too, almost like a daydream that felt too real. He’d chalked it up to the excessive imagination of a boy with too much time alone who watched too much adult programming after his grandparents went to bed. Now he wasn’t so sure. Hadn’t that man Shiro dreamt about having met once told him crazy stories about space warriors and flying robots?

Except that was a dream. Just a dream. At least he was pretty sure it was. It’d been so long ago, and trying to grasp ahold of the memories was like grasping at water—every time he thought he could recall a detail it slipped out of his reach.

“This isn’t happening,” Shiro muttered, chucking the box to the side to rummage through the next. “This isn’t happening. I’m not crazy. I am not crazy.”

As if hoping to prove it to himself he opened the next box. 

Inside was, well, Shiro didn’t have a clue what it was. It was black and white and looked like some sort of weapon his younger self would’ve had a lot of fun waving around a room while jumping on a couch and pretending he was someone important. He reached into the box and wrapped his fingers around the handle—at least he thought it was a handle—and withdrew it from the box. A strange warmth filled his fingers and the crazy weapon thing lit up and began to change. Actually change, the edges lengthening. Shiro threw it at the wall—the clatter oddly satisfying as it slid down the wall and into an opened box in the corner. 

“Right. Guess I’m crazy then,” he breathed, falling onto his ass.

Once the initial shock wore off, he found the panic that should have been there given what was happening was missing. Instead there was just a strange sense of calm permeating his entire body, almost as if someone else was there whispering _don’t worry, Shiro, you're safe._ He knew it was crazy, but then everything that he’d seen since he woke up was crazy too, so it felt pretty par for the course.

There were only two boxes left, and he moved to his knees, shuffling forward and prying the next one open. He was almost afraid to open it, unsure what he might find. Inside was nothing but clothes. Regular clothes. Granted they weren’t exactly any that Shiro would normally wear—there was a black shirt in a thin stretchy material that was several sizes too big, a few pairs of pants, and a leather jacket. He pulled the jacket out of the box first, holding it up as he examined the bright red leather with a yellow stripe across the chest. It was obviously well-worn, a small hole near the collar and dark smudges on the cuffs. But it was clean, relatively speaking, and most importantly closer to his size than what he currently had on.

Shiro took one glance down at his own too small clothing and his mind was made up as he stood up and yanked it off, swapping his own ragged clothing for the new stuff. As expected the shirt was way too big, hanging off his lanky frame. He tucked it into the pants he found, which were a bit tight, but the length was just right. He tucked the shirt in, then eyed the leather jacket. He didn’t need it, not with the shirt he had. But something about it made Shiro’s fingers itch to touch it, so he did. He held it up, fingering the worn leather, unable to explain why he wanted to wear it so badly when it was the exact opposite of anything he’d normally put on.

The jacket was unnecessary. It was bold in a way Shiro wasn’t, and it was, most importantly, not his. Then again the pants and shirt weren’t his either, but he could rationalize taking those because of necessity. He didn’t need the jacket. He absolutely did not need it.

Except, well—he wanted the jacket. Wanted to put it on. Wanted to see how it looked—how it felt on. He didn’t understand why, but god, he wanted it.

Even though he was ninety-nine percent sure that he was alone, he still did a cursory check of his surroundings one last time before withdrawing the jacket from the box. The leather was as butter between his fingers, and he briefly worried it might not fit but as he slid his first arm through the sleeve he knew that wasn’t true. It was a perfect fit. Warmth enveloped Shiro, and a smile blossomed on his face. 

A quick check through the rest of the boxes turned up nothing else of interest or use. Content he was at least dressed in somewhat normal clothing, he decided to leave the small store room to explore, hopeful he might turn up something else that gave some kind of insight into where he was or how he’d gotten there. Of course, as he reached the doorway the small problem of the lights became a big problem as he eyed the pitch dark hallways. It’d been years since Shiro was truly scared of the dark, but the lack of information about his surroundings and haziness around his own memories was unsettling enough that the idea of forging ahead into an unknown spacecraft being unable to see made nausea settle in the pit of Shiro’s stomach. 

“Get a grip, Shirogane. It’s just the dark,” he murmured, trying to push the panic building in his chest away. He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths—in through his mouth and out through his nose. If it was going to be dark at least it would be darkness of his own choosing. He’d spent years trying to get over this—over the irrational way his chest tightened when he couldn’t see—doing everything he could to hide the way the lack of light set his nerves on edge. No one was going to send someone to space who was afraid of the dark.

Clenching his jaw, Shiro took the two steps into the darkness, surprised when the entire ship lit up.

“Oh,” he breathed, the tightness in his chest lessening. Again the sense of panic that probably should have been there about the ship being sentient enough to be able to sense his needs was missing. Shiro only felt a rush of relief and a burgeoning sense of excitement. Granted, the circumstances were less than ideal, but Shiro was hard pressed to ignore just how incredible the ship was and the mystery technology that seemed to be powering it. 

Unbidden, a laugh bubbled out of his chest as he took off running—adrenaline masking the sharp pain in his ankles and knees as he ran. He ran down a long corridor, grinning to himself as the lights continued to click on lighting up his pathway as if the ship itself were anticipating where he might run next. There was no fear or pain, only euphoria as he ran until he was breathless—a comfortable burn in his lungs. He only stopped running when he reached a dead end, unsure where to go next. In his quick but thorough exploration of the ship he’d not seen any indication of another person or a way out. 

His best option at this point was trying to find his way back to the cockpit to see if he could figure some way of sending out a distress signal. He’d only been at the Garrison for a few months and hadn’t even begun to cover communication systems. That wasn’t a class Shiro would be allowed to register for until he was a senior. Of course that hadn’t stopped him from spending the last two years researching them himself. Just in case. It was just that Shiro’s version of _just in case_ was more like _just in case the Garrison thinks you can't handle it because of your illness_ and not _just in case you wake up in a foreign spacecraft with no memory of how you got there._

Mind made up, he spun on his heels, halfway down the long corridor again when the sound of locks clicking hit him. He turned around quickly, watching in surprise as the wall—or not a wall apparently—began to open. Light from outside flooded inside the cracks, and Shiro barely had a moment to prepare himself for what was outside when the not-a-wall-but-a-door lowered into a ramp.

“Shiro!”

Shiro stilled, the voice unfamiliar but the concern clear. Automatically he walked towards the opening and immediately came face to face with the source of the voice.

“Shiro I was so worried, I—oh my fucking god.” The man stopped at the bottom of the ramp, his mouth falling open as he stared at Shiro.

The stranger seemed to be the only one there, and Shiro swallowed down his inexplicable rush of nerves, straightening his shoulders and stepping out onto the top of the ramp and into the light. The man let out an audible gasp as he stared at Shiro as if he were seeing a ghost. Shiro shared the sentiment as he stared at the stranger, unsure why he didn’t feel like a stranger at all. 

It wasn’t until Shiro was halfway down the ramp that he let himself stop and look—really look at the man before him. For all intents and purposes he was a complete stranger, and yet there was something almost familiar about the sharp line of his jaw and the shape of his face. His hair was pulled up in a messy bun and his hands were shoved into the pocket of his jeans. He was also wearing a leather jacket not too different from the style of the one Shiro was wearing now except it was all black with a single white stripe across the chest. He was easily the most beautiful man Shiro had ever laid eyes on. 

Which of course meant that Shiro had to go and embarrass himself, so busy staring at the guy’s pretty face he didn’t notice the bump in the ramp and tripped, tumbling face first down the last few feet of the ramp and ending up in a heap at the man’s feet. It was a long and hard way down, and Shiro did his best to contain the grunts of pain. 

“Fuck, Shiro, are you okay?” he asked, bending down and cradling the back of Shiro’s forehead. He brushed Shiro’s hair out of his eyes, checking his forehead. Up this close Shiro could see an almost purple iridescence to the guy’s dark-blue eyes.

 _I’m fine,_ Shiro wanted to say. Except that what came out instead was, “You’re pretty.”

The man’s eyes widened, and he pressed his palm to Shiro’s forehead. “Does anything hurt?”

Shiro didn’t trust himself to speak a second time so he shook his head, glad the guy was too polite to question his idiocy. Truthfully his ego hurt as much as everything else—which was to say quite a lot—but he wasn’t about to admit either one of those things.

“You were in there for hours,” he said softly. “Does anything hurt? Do you think you have a concussion?”

Shiro licked his lips and shook his head again. “No.” 

Truthfully he wasn’t even sure he believed himself. Maybe he did have a concussion. It would explain why his memories all felt so jumbled together and why this man he didn’t remember ever seeing could feel so inexplicably familiar at the same time.

“Shiro, do you know who I am?” he asked. 

“Am I supposed to?”

The guy’s face fell before he replaced the look with a tight smile. “No, it’s okay. It’s been a long time for you. Feels like a few hours for me but it’s been years for you. How old are you now? Fifteen?”

“I’m sixteen, my birthday was last month,” Shiro answered, his confusion increasing with every word the man spoke. He seemed to know Shiro, and yet Shiro didn’t know him. At least he didn’t think he did. The longer he stared at his face, the more he began to question everything. The more he felt like maybe he had met him before.

“You’ve grown so much.”

Shiro didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing and stared instead. He took in the swoop of the man’s dark eyelashes and the arch of his cheekbones. He paid attention to the unexpected roughness of the pads of his fingers against Shiro’s forehead, which he was still touching, and he watched the way the man’s mouth open and shut a few times like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Shiro knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn’t help himself, trying to place why the lines of the man’s face and the way the hair hung in his eyes seemed like something out of a dream. Shiro looked unabashedly until the sound of the ramp retracting beside them caught his attention. He jumped, the man’s hands falling from his face as Shiro darted his head to the side watching the ramp recede. It was only then that he realized the thing he had walked out of wasn’t a spaceship at all but a lion. 

A giant fucking robot lion.

The concussion seemed entirely probable now.

“Shiro,” the stranger whispered and a flash of that voice calling his name echoed in his brain.

 _Shiro,_ the memory echoed. Being ten years old and someone calling his name as he ran into that robot lion. That was so long ago. That had been a dream, hadn’t it? Yet the memory was there, and Shiro focused on it, tugging it to the forefront of his mind. It was like trying to grab ahold of the fog, almost tangible but every time he got close it slipped just out of reach.

Frustration welled up inside of Shiro as he balled his hands into fists and closed his eyes. Three deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth. Then repeat.

“Shiro.” 

The voice was so familiar now. Then there was a hand on his back and images flashed through his mind—someone ruffling his hair, someone making him macaroni and cheese, someone staying up with him all night so he wouldn’t be alone in the dark. Not just someone.

“Keith,” Shiro whispered, opening his eyes.

Keith let out a choked sob, and before Shiro knew what was happening he was being pulled into a hug. The last time he had been hugged was by his grandparents the day he’d been accepted to the Garrison. Back before—before they were gone and there was no one left to hug Shiro. No one left to say goodbye. No one left to send letters home or mail him care packages like his roommates got every week. Back before Shiro almost forgot what it was like to have someone else’s arms wrapped around him.

Shiro buried his face in Keith’s shoulder and let him pull him closer. 

Keith was a stranger, but Shiro hugged him as if he weren’t.

***

“I’m sorry, let me see if I understand this correctly. You took Shiro into a highly secured facility despite being advised to stay in your quarters without prior authorization and then—” the doctor paused, waving his arm in Shiro’s general direction. “That.”

Shiro bristled. He still had no idea how he’d ended up in the giant robot lion or how exactly he knew Keith since the entire room had been flooded with Garrison personnel and doctors just moments after Shiro had said Keith’s name. It’d been a whirlwind since of people fussing over him, checking his vitals, and constantly asking how he felt.

How he felt was confused and annoyed. Oh, and embarrassed. That was a big one.

“He was bored,” Keith answered, crossing his arms over his chest. “And he’s safe.” 

God he was just as pretty when he was annoyed as when he was leaning over Shiro with concern in his eyes. As soon as Shiro had the thought he threw himself back against his pillow and averted his gaze. He’d made enough of an embarrassment of himself before, the last thing he needed was for Keith to realize how hopeless Shiro was. He was too old for Shiro and too attractive. Besides he probably wasn’t even gay. It felt like no one else at the Garrison was gay. 

For better or worse Shiro’d let his roommate know he was gay the day he moved in, unwilling to hide it and needing to know immediately if he had any reason to request a room transfer. He’d stared at Shiro unblinking for a few seconds then shrugged and threw a pillow at him and that had been that. It hadn’t been an issue since. Not really. It was just one more thing that made him different. He was already the sick kid and the orphan. Adding being the gay kid seemed like a natural progression of events. Besides, he figured if he came out with everything first then no one could talk about him behind his back. It was just that, well, somehow Shiro hadn’t expected to be the only one.

“Mr. Kogane, I hardly think—”

“With all due respect, I’m not sure what you think is relevant,” Keith interrupted. The doctor’s eyes widened.

“Gentleman, perhaps we could focus on the more important issue at hand,” the woman—Allura was what Keith had called her—said kindly. She had a soothing voice, and something in her demeanor seemed to put Keith and the doctor at ease as she laid a hand on Keith’s arm and smiled at the doctor.

“She’s right. The only thing that matters is Shiro.” Shiro’s stomach flipped at Keith’s words, unsure how to handle that kind of attention from someone he didn’t even know—and someone that handsome. 

“Of course, Shiro is everyone’s top priority right now,” the doctor agreed, though the inflection in his voice seemed to say otherwise. 

“I believe I’m close to something. Shiro’s newest jump is admittedly a bit of a surprise, but I think I might have a lead that could shed more light onto understanding why this is all happening,” Allura said. “I just need a few more days and I’m sure I’ll have it figured out.”

Understand what, Shiro wanted to know. It was as if everyone around him had been talking in riddles for the last few hours, and it was starting to drive him absolutely crazy. He was sixteen, not a baby. If something was going on with him he deserved to know what it was.

“I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say finding out how to help Shiro is what we all want,” the doctor said.

Shiro’s tenuous grip on politeness was slipping with every word they spoke.

“I’m sure Shiro would like—” Allura began, and Shiro snapped and cut her off mid-sentence.

“Shiro is right here. Maybe someone should ask Shiro what he would like instead of talking about him like he’s not here.”

Three sets of eyes turned on Shiro. Warmth flooded his cheeks at the unexpected attention, but he held their gaze. Surprisingly it was Allura who spoke, moving closer until she was right beside his bed. Keith remained at the door beside the doctor, both of them looking a bit chastised.

“I’m so sorry, Shiro. It was an oversight of the greatest measure to discuss your physical and emotional well-being without including you in the conversation. You’ve grown so much, I must admit I was rather thinking of you as a child still. But you’re not a child anymore are you?”

“No,” Shiro answered with a shake of his head. Not unlike Keith, Shiro had the strangest sensation of having met her before. There was something in her demeanor and the lilt of her voice that set Shiro’s fraying nerves at ease.

“Would it be alright if I sit down?” she asked, nodding towards the end of the hospital bed.

Shiro nodded, crossing his legs and sitting up straighter. She lowered herself near the end of the bed and for the first time Shiro noticed the markings on her face. Well, that was different.

“How are you feeling, Shiro?”

“Fine,” Shiro answered. It was automatic by now.

“Of course you are. You always are, aren’t you?” Allura said. The weird sense of deja vu assaulted Shiro again and he was glad he was sitting down as his head spun.

Shiro closed his eyes and leaned back against his pillow. Three breaths in and three breaths out. This was fine. Everything was fine. It had to be fine. Shiro hadn’t spent his entire, albeit short, life fighting to get into the Garrison to be the best damn pilot they’d ever seen just to be done in by something like waking up in a secret level of the Garrison in a goddamn flying lion.

He could handle this. He could handle anything. 

“Are you okay?” Keith’s voice broke through his mental mantra, and he cracked one eye open.

“Fine,” he answered.

“Right, so then no,” Keith replied, stretching his hand out and brushing the longest bits of hair off Shiro’s face. He pressed the back of his hand to Shiro’s forehead and left it there.

“I’m not sick,” Shiro protested, though he didn’t actually mind being touched. At least not by Keith. He made sure to frown for good measure though, just so Keith didn’t know he didn’t mind.

“I don’t know,” Keith murmured. He turned his hand, his palm brushing over Shiro’s eyebrows as he pushed the hair back, eyeing Shiro as if he were looking for something.

Unable to stop himself, he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and breathing in slowly. Keith’s fingers were warm and he smelled, god he smelled so good—musky and clean with an undercurrent of something woodsy. It was nothing like the boys in the Garrison who smelled like the generic soap the Garrison provided for free in the communal showers, or worse, sweat. Shiro shifted on the bed, tugging his blanket into his lap in the hopes of disguising his body’s treacherous reaction to Keith’s scent. It was almost as if the universe were taunting him by trying to see how much of an embarrassment he could make of himself in one day. 

“You feel a little flushed,” Keith continued. “Maybe the doctor should check you out again.”

“Nope,” Shiro croaked, throwing his head back against the pillow and shaking his head vehemently. “I’m good. So good.”

It was a lie. Shiro was anything but good, but the last thing he needed was a doctor checking him out and diagnosing him with an incurable case of horniness. Or asking too many questions about how he felt physically, the answer to which was that he felt like he’d been kicked by a horse. Which was to be expected after waking up on the hard floor. Especially since he had no idea where his medical bracelets were, and for some strange reason he couldn’t recall the last time he’d done his therapy stretches. Not that either of those seemed to help as much as they had when he was younger. No matter what the doctors said to the contrary Shiro knew the truth—his days of optimum health would begin to recede soon, and no amount of physical activity or occupational therapy could offset what genetics had already decided was his lot in life. The best he could do was push through it and do the one thing no one was ever going to be able to take from him—getting to space. 

“Perhaps a little time alone to rest would be for the best,” Allura suggested, rising from the bed. “I’m afraid we’ve all monopolized a great deal of Shiro’s time. It’s late and he’s likely had a very long day. It was lovely to meet you again, Shiro.”

 _Again_. Shiro puzzled that over, trying to make sense of where she might’ve met him before. He didn’t have long to think about it, though, before she left. Once she was near the door she paused, reaching over to place a hand on the doctor’s arm. “I’d love to discuss a few things with you if you’d be so inclined.”

“Of course,” he answered, turning back to glance between Keith and Shiro. When he spoke his words were directed at Keith. “Technically he’s been cleared for release so there’s no reason you can’t go back to your quarters, but please try to stay there.”

Keith made a noncommittal noise, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking on his heels. He watched the door close, waiting until they were alone before turning his attention back on Shiro.

“Sorry. About before I mean. I guess, I was thinking of you as a little kid still.”

Shiro shrugged. “It’s okay. But I’m not a kid.”

“No you’re not.” Keith’s gaze was intense as he stared at Shiro, unblinking. “But you’re…god you’re so young.”

Shiro bristled. He wasn’t _that_ young.

Keith eyed the clock on the wall. “Allura was right, it is late. You must be really tired.”

“Not really,” Shiro answered.

“Do you need anything?” Keith asked, still hovering near Shiro’s bedside. “Something to eat maybe? Water? Um…anything.”

“Answers.”

“Of course that’s all you want.” Keith huffed out a laugh. “Some things never change.”

Shiro had no idea how to respond to that. Everyone seemed to know who he was, but the feeling was not mutual. Every time someone—Keith in particular—said something where Shiro felt certain he was missing some vital bit of information, his ability to stay calm and compliant wavered. He was now certain he’d spent time with Keith before, but that was years ago and the memories were fuzzy around the edges. The only thing Shiro knew for sure was that he was at the Garrison. It was the only information he had that made him feel a little bit less like panicking. He was used to the chain of command at the Garrison. He was used to not being given answers for things above his clearance level or being told to accept whatever information he was given because that was his job to do as he was told. Shiro was good at accepting things he didn’t like—he’d spent his entire life practicing. Compliance and an ability to work under duress were the types of qualities likely to help him get into space. Not flying off the handle and yelling at the doctors or Garrison personnel because he was scared and confused.

Except this was different from Shiro’s daily life of classes and drills. Keith wasn’t in Garrison uniform. Keith wasn’t Shiro’s superior officer. Hell, Shiro wasn’t even sure if he was an officer at all. Whatever Keith’s position at the Garrison was, it wasn’t within the chain of command Shiro was familiar with. The doctors and officers who’d filed into Shiro’s room since he’d been brought in after his exit from the lion had deferred to Keith as if he were important, but Shiro had no idea why.

Things were easier to ignore when his room had been filled with the hustle and bustle of doctors and tests and questions Shiro hated answering but was now used to. He got twice as many routine physicals as the other cadets, had endured ten times more testing to gain his Garrison admittance. Sometimes Shiro thought he spent more time in the medical wing than he did in class. But now the excitement had died down. Now things were quiet.

Now it was just Keith and Shiro, and Shiro was rapidly losing the ability to pretend everything was fine.

“Why don’t we get out of here,” Keith said, startling Shiro from his thoughts when Keith laid a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “I still have the access code to the mess hall, and no one else will be there. We could get a snack, maybe some hot cocoa with lots of marshmallows.”

“Okay,” Shiro breathed, shoulder burning under Keith’s touch. 

Apparently the one thing that could distract him from actual real life chaos was a pretty face.

“Great.” Keith smiled, and Shiro’s stomach dropped. So pretty. “I managed to find some clothes that might fit you when the doctors were doing those first few tests and I had to wait outside. They’re nothing special but they should fit better than what you had on before. I left them in the bathroom.”

“Oh, thanks.” Shiro was more than ready to be out of the stupid hospital gown the doctors had insisted he wear after being brought in. He hated hospital gowns. If he wanted someone to see his ass it wouldn’t be like this.

“Of course,” Keith said, removing his hand from Shiro’s shoulder and taking a step backward.

Shiro fisted his hands in the blanket, watching as Keith moved to the door, pausing with his hand on the door handle. He dropped it, moving to the pile of clothes on the chair Shiro had been wearing when he’d been brought in. Shiro wondered what he was doing, watching with curiosity as Keith lifted the leather jacket then turned around and unexpectedly tossed it to Shiro. 

“Nice catch,” Keith said with another smile. “You should put that on too. It’s cold tonight.”

“Oh, it’s um…it’s not mine. I don’t know whose it is. I found it on the—” he paused. I found it on the giant flying robot lion sounded too ludicrous to say out loud, even if it was the truth. “I found it.”

“It’s mine.” Keith’s smile faltered, eyes shuttering before he plastered on another smile though the authenticity was lacking. Guilt swelled up in Shiro. He’d been so concerned with finding something that fit and figuring out where he was he’d failed to think about who the stuff might belong to.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t know I just—”

Keith held up a hand. “No, it’s fine. Really. It doesn’t even fit me anymore anyway. But even if it did I’d still want you to keep it.”

“Why?” Shiro asked. There was something almost painfully familiar about the way it felt beneath his fingers, and he clung to the jacket even though he couldn’t recall ever having seen it before today. It was smooth against the pad of his thumb as he rubbed the leather between his thumb and forefinger. An overwhelming urge to bury his face in the supple leather and hide assaulted Shiro. 

“It looks good on you,” Keith answered.

Shiro blushed at the compliment, his entire body flooded with warmth. He waited until Keith had stepped outside the door before covering his face with the jacket and inhaling deeply through his nose. Keith’s. The jacket had been Keith’s. Instead of clearing things up all it did was make Shiro more confused.

This was going to be fine. Shiro could handle whatever the hell this was. He had to.

***

“I didn’t even know the Garrison had marshmallows,” Shiro said, unable to hide his excitement as Keith returned from the supply room carrying a giant glass jar full of puffy white marshmallows. Shiro had never actually been on kitchen duty so he wasn’t sure what the Garrison kept in the back. He just knew no one had ever put out marshmallows for him or any of the other cadets when hot cocoa had been on the menu.

“Guess you didn’t know where to look,” Keith said, winking at Shiro and dropping the jar onto the counter beside Shiro.

“I guess not,” Shiro laughed, immediately reaching for the jar. He untwisted the cap and tipped it into the steaming mug of cocoa Keith had made him. Once the cup was overflowing with marshmallows he tipped a handful in his palm, popping the entire handful into his mouth and flushing when he realized Keith was watching him.

“Bit of a sweet tooth, huh?” he teased, raising an eyebrow as if he already knew the answer. 

“Maybe,” Shiro mumbled around a mouth full of marshmallows. Both his grandparents had monitored his sugar intake religiously, positive that it would have a negative impact on his overall health. But they weren’t here now, and there was no one here to tell Shiro what he could or couldn’t eat. There was no one here to tell Shiro not to eat the Pop-Tarts he kept hidden in his desk drawer to eat when he stayed up all night studying and no one to tell him that his secret stash of Starbursts was not an adequate meal replacement when he skipped lunch to spend extra time running sims.

If Keith had something else to say as Shiro added a few more marshmallows into his mug just to be ornery, Keith held it in, silently sipping his drink as Shiro poked at his marshmallows. It wasn’t until Shiro was halfway done with his cocoa that Keith began to talk, slowly at first and then with purpose. 

He talked and he talked and the more he said the less Shiro felt like he knew.

Shiro thought about the weird pull he felt towards Keith and the haziness surrounding the memories he had meeting him once years ago. He thought of the way Allura looked at him as if she knew him, and the way the doctors whispered as if there was a giant secret that Shiro wasn’t in on. He thought about the way he wanted to call his grandparents and tell them he was okay except there was no one who would’ve known Shiro was missing and no one to tell that he was okay. He thought about the fact that one day he was going to go to space if it killed him, and there might not be anyone waiting for him when he got back.

He thought about the way he hadn’t been afraid when he’d woken up in the lion and how there was something pulling him back now, even knowing he wasn’t supposed to go.

He thought about the way Keith’s pretty smile reminded him of all the things he didn’t have time for or need because no one was ever going to love someone destined to die. Especially not someone like Keith.

As Keith talked about being a pilot himself and his missions to space Shiro found his confusion giving way to admiration.

One thing at least was becoming abundantly clear—Shiro really liked Keith.

***

Shiro sighed, rolling onto his side and trying to punch the pillow beneath his head into submission. When it didn’t work he gave up, yanking the pillow out from beneath him and throwing it against the wall. He flopped onto the bed on his back this time, arms and legs spread out like a starfish as he stared at the ceiling imagining the constellations he might see if he were outside instead of where he was now. Shiro was used to the darkness now; he’d got over that fear a long time ago—learned to make peace with the expanse of nothingness that came when the lights went out.

What he was not used to was silence. There’d always been noise of some sort in his grandparents' home—the television at night, the radio playing classical music in the background while his grandmother cooked, or the chatter of voices as his grandparents talked to him. His childhood had been quiet enough, but never silent. The only time things had been truly silent had been the week following his grandparents’ death. A week of solemn faces and false platitudes as people Shiro had never met told him they were sorry for his loss. A week during which the only sounds he’d heard at night had been the sounds of the sobs he gave up trying to hide once he was alone.

Then he’d come to the Garrison and there’d been nothing but noise. Teenagers were, by their very nature, noisy. Despite the strict lights out at 21:00 rule, his roommate only shut up when he was asleep. Even then he snored like a bear in hibernation and usually left music playing on his datapad. Shiro didn’t mind any of it. As obnoxious as the sounds sometimes were, it was comforting to know he wasn’t alone. He liked the hustle and bustle of Garrison life, the way the noise signaled routine.

Noise was life. As long as there was noise Shiro wasn’t alone.

There was no noise now, and the silence was almost deafening.

After leaving the mess hall he and Keith had walked back to Keith’s apartment in silence. Shiro had been too awestruck and flustered to do more than grunt when Keith showed him his room, too distracted by Keith’s presence to really care about the exact details of why he was in Keith’s apartment instead of his own dorm. He’d never been into this section of the Garrison, hadn’t even known there was long-term residences there. The fact that Keith was not only a pilot but lived in the Garrison was a lot to take in. Everything was a lot to take in. Shiro thought he’d had a good grasp of dealing with the unimaginable, but this was testing even his abilities.

“I give up,” Shiro grumbled, sitting up so quickly he knocked his blanket to the floor before throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He was tired of lying in the dark, unable to sleep, doing nothing but counting imaginary stars and thinking about things he didn’t want to think about.

The quiet threatened to close in on him as he shuffled from the room. Too quiet. Too much time alone. Too much with nothing but his own thoughts. Since his grandparents’ death Shiro had done everything in his power to stay as busy as possible. It was easier to focus on tangible things—his sim scores, his midterms, helping out his fellow cadets. Focusing on those things made it easier for Shiro to focus on the things in his life he could control, not the ones he couldn’t.

Since he’d woken up in the lion everyone kept trying to make Shiro rest, and it was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t want to rest. He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to think, and he sure as hell didn’t want to dream.

He moved quickly and quietly, removing his pajamas and dressing in the dark. The last thing he put on was the leather jacket from Keith before he peeked out of the bedroom door. There were no lights on in the hall or living room, nor were there any coming from Keith’s bedroom at the far end of the hallway. Satisfied Keith was asleep, Shiro slipped from the bedroom and made his way to the front door. A small sliver of guilt rose up in Shiro’s chest as he turned the deadbolt, thinking back on Keith’s words—if you need anything you can come to me. It was a nice thought, but Shiro couldn’t imagine what he might say. He barely understood his own feelings, and the last thing he needed to do was burden someone else—especially someone he was maybe possibly developing a stupid but large crush on.

Technically he knew he wasn’t supposed to leave Keith’s quarters. But technically that information had not been relayed to Shiro as an official order, and they’d made it very clear that Shiro was not allowed to attend his classes, which meant that technically he was not currently subject to the normal rules and regulations while he recovered. The thought alone made him snort. Recovered. Recovered from whatever the hell had happened to him that no one seemed inclined to explain beyond using phrases like _hard to explain_ and _classified information_ and _it’s for your own good_.

Shiro managed to make it to the training facilities in record time considering he’d started out in a wing of the Garrison that before tonight he hadn’t even known existed. But Shiro was good at finding things and finding his way out of places. His navigation sim scores were off the charts, and it was one of the few things Shiro had absolute confidence in. It was one of the things that Shiro knew would help get him to space. Lots of people could be trusted to get to space, but only some would be able to get their crew home. Shiro was that man. He knew it with every fiber of his being. There was no place too far from which Shiro wouldn’t be able to find his way back. One of Shiro’s classmates—after watching Shiro get a perfect score in his first navigation sim—had joked that Shiro could probably find his way back from death itself if he had enough motivation.

As expected there was no one in the gym. Why would there be? Normal people didn’t go to the gym at two in the morning to avoid their problems. Especially not when the punishment for being caught out of bed was two months probation. 

He left the lights off as he shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the weight rack near the door.

Maybe if Shiro made himself tired enough he wouldn’t think.

***

By the time Shiro stumbled back into Keith’s apartment—body drenched in sweat and his lungs still burning with exertion—it was after three in the morning. He was exhausted enough that he knew the smart thing would be to go to bed—to lie down and get a few hours of sleep before he had to face whatever the new day might bring. Shiro didn’t feel like being smart.

Instead he hung his jacket by the door and kicked off his shoes before making his way to the kitchen. He almost turned on the light then thought better of it, not wanting to draw too much attention to the fact that he was awake. Not that he thought he’d get in trouble—Keith wasn’t his professor or superior officer. But he didn’t need Keith to worry about him or ask too many questions. Instead he pulled open the microwave door, hoping the small bit of light it cast in the darkness would be enough for him to find something to eat.

Keith had told him to make himself at home, that anything in his apartment was for Shiro. Which was nice, it just didn’t make it any easier for Shiro to figure out where actual food was. The first cupboard he opened was full of glasses and coffee mugs, the second plates. The third was an entire cupboard of cereal, which was tempting because of its ease, but Shiro didn’t want cold cereal. He wanted food. The hot cocoa from earlier was long gone from his stomach, and he’d worked up enough of an appetite that he felt like he could eat his own arm. Cold cereal was absolutely not going to cut it. Except, the alternative was cooking, and while Keith had insisted Shiro could make himself at home he wasn’t sure how Keith would react to waking up with a dirty kitchen. Well, that and the only things Shiro knew how to cook were rice and pasta, neither of which he’d found yet. With a heavy sigh he kept looking. 

Fifteen minutes later he’d succeeded in finding a can of soup and a pot. Five minutes after that he’d managed to find a can opener buried beneath a set of measuring cups that still had a price tag on them and an array of takeout menus. Something told him Keith didn’t cook much. He didn’t blame him. If Shiro lived alone he wasn’t sure he’d go to all the trouble to cook for himself either.

He popped open the can opener, attaching it to the soup and twisting. Then promptly dropped the can onto the tile floor when a sharp pain worked its way from the inside of his left wrist up his elbow.

“Shit,” he winced, rubbing at his his forearm. He retrieved the soup and can opener, setting it on the counter and trying again. The moment he gripped it tight enough to turn the pain lanced through his arm again, even worse the second time around. He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, then tried again. The third time the pain was bad enough it made moisture prickle at the corners of his eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Shiro cursed.

He knew it was his own fault. Mostly. He’d been going god knew how long without his medical bracelets, and the second the doctors had managed to find him new ones he’d gone to the bathroom and pocketed them, returning with Keith’s leather jacket on to hide his wrists instead of simply putting them on like he knew he needed to. Then he’d gone and worked his body past the brink of exhaustion, ignoring the ache in his wrists and the pain building in his muscles as he’d run and run until the only thing that hurt more was breathing.

It was stupid. Shiro knew it was stupid. He just didn’t want to need the goddamn bracelets. He didn’t want to need to exercise regularly but not too regularly. He didn’t want to have special provisions made for him and to have to work twice as hard as everyone else to prove he could be normal. 

He was tired of hurting. He was so tired of hurting and pretending he didn’t and he’d just—he’d wanted to pretend he was normal for a little bit.

Except those decisions were costing him now.

He tried one last time, hands shaking as he tried to close the can opener around the edge of the can. Except he couldn’t. He couldn’t grip it tight enough to get the blades to pierce the lip of the can, and Shiro wanted to scream. He couldn’t even open a fucking can of soup, how the fuck was he ever going to get anyone to believe he could go to space?

Frustration and anger welled up in the pit of his stomach and he slammed the can of soup onto the counter with more force than was necessary, the sound echoing in the silence.

“Shiro?”

Shiro jumped, throat tightening. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to be so noisy. He hadn’t meant to wake up Keith.

Footsteps echoed across the tile floor as Keith approached. Shiro didn’t want to know how long Keith must have been standing in the living room while Shiro was too preoccupied to notice. The idea of anyone seeing him like this was bad enough, but Keith was worse. Smart, capable, beautiful Keith who probably thought Shiro was a pathetic kid who couldn’t even feed himself.

“You uh…need any help?” Keith asked.

Shiro shook his head, refusing to turn around at look at Keith.

Keith moved to the side, leaning against the kitchen counter. Shiro could see him out of the corner of his eyes—his hair was rumpled from sleep, sticking up on one side and his face was etched with worry. He hated that look. Worry always came before pity.

“Let me help you,” Keith offered again. 

Shiro felt moisture prickle at the corners of his eyes, and he scrubbed at them with the back of his hand, refusing to let Keith see him cry.

He didn’t want help—or at least he didn’t want to want it and he sure as hell didn’t want to _need_ help. The last people who’d promised to always help him without pity were dead, and Shiro’d made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t ever let himself become a burden or a problem for anyone else. He would be strong. He would take care of himself and he would get to to space if it killed him, or at least before his body betrayed him and did him in first.

“It’s okay,” Keith said, reaching out as slowly as if he were approaching a wild animal. He laid his hand over Shiro’s atop the can opener, and something in Shiro snapped. He was tired of people being gentle with him, tired of people tiptoeing around him and telling him they were doing what was best for him without letting him decide what was best for him.

He was tired. He was so fucking tired.

Keith’s fingers wrapped around Shiro’s, and before he could stop and think about what he was about to do he’d turned towards the living room and hurled the can at the far wall, a strange sense of satisfaction filling him as it slammed into the bookshelf and sent several books crashing to the floor. The satisfaction was short lived, replaced immediately by guilt and shame.

He closed his eyes, dropping his head as he waited for Keith to get angry.

He didn’t.

Summoning every ounce of courage he possessed, Shiro turned to face Keith. What he saw on his face was worse than pity. It was worse because he hadn’t seen anyone look at him like that in a long time—hadn’t had anyone look at him as if they really cared about him since his grandparents had gone to the market to buy groceries and never come home.

“Oh, Shiro.” Keith’s voice was gentle and kind, and something in Shiro broke.

Shiro didn’t bother protesting when Keith crowded into his space, didn’t pull away when Keith wrapped his arms around him, and he didn’t apologize as he crumpled to the floor in tears taking Keith with him.

***

The second Shiro woke up the following morning he regretted it. He grunted at the light peeking through the crack of the door, rolling over to bury his face in his pillow. Maybe if he tried hard enough he could will himself to go back to sleep so he wouldn’t have to actually wake up and deal with the repercussions from last night.

Keith had been, well—amazing. He’d been kind and nonjudgmental and allowed Shiro to be pathetic without forcing him to talk about anything. He hadn’t pushed, just silently retrieved Shiro’s bracelets from the pocket of the leather jacket after Shiro had confessed where there were and then held them out to Shiro. It was clear he’d wanted him to put them on but he hadn’t said a word—he’d let the decision be his and his alone. That small amount of autonomy had been enough for Shiro to push away his embarrassment and snap them on. The effect wasn’t instantaneous, they weren’t magic, but they were enough that he was already feeling better this morning. Physically anyway.

Emotionally Shiro felt like leftover macaroni and cheese—cold, stuck to the pan, and the bits no one wanted. He shoved his face deeper into the pillow until he could barely breathe, letting out a quiet scream. Who cried because they couldn’t open a can of soup and then threw it at a wall? No one, that was who. 

Shiro never lost control, especially not like that. He couldn’t afford to. Everything he did needed to be better than everyone else to prove that his illness would never hold him back. There was no room for mistakes or mediocrity. And definitely no room for soup meltdowns.

The only saving grace was that Keith wasn’t one of his professors. Keith wouldn’t tell anyone what happened. At least he didn’t think he would. So it wasn’t likely to affect his chances of becoming a pilot. Which was good. Great even.

Great except for the part where Shiro had made himself look like an idiot in front of Keith. It made his face burn with shame just thinking about it.

When his air supply got too low he finally pulled his face out of the pillow, inhaling a shuddering breath. For all of thirty seconds he debated staying in bed the entire day until he realized the only thing worse than facing Keith was the idea of being left alone with his own thoughts for hours and hours on end. Decision made, he rolled onto his back and sat up, throwing his legs over the bed. The moment he stood up he realized something else was up too.

“Seriously,” he groaned, eying his traitorous dick with annoyance. He wasn’t fourteen anymore. He wasn’t supposed to wake up like this. It wasn’t like he could even jerk off, not in here. There was no telling whether Keith might hear him through the thin walls, or worse come in. And he couldn’t even go to the bathroom to take care of it because that was down the hallway and there wasn’t a chance in hell Shiro was taking the chance of running to the bathroom with his pajama pants tented and wet in the front. He couldn’t even change because the only clean clothes he had were a pair of jeans and there was no way those were going to fit over his stupid hard dick.

He scanned the room quickly, hoping for a miracle. In the end he found a blanket that he threw around himself like a protective cape. Then Shiro performed one of the bravest acts of his entire life and left the safety of the bedroom while sporting a morning hard on.

Any tiny hope he clung to that Keith might not be awake and therefore give his over-eager dick time to settle itself into submission were proven futile because as soon as Shiro shuffled down the hallway he could hear the sounds of someone bustling around the kitchen. The closer he got the more obvious the source of the noises were. Coffee. Keith was making coffee. The entire room reeked of it, and only Shiro’s deeply ingrained need to be polite at all times kept him from grimacing at the smell.

At home mornings had usually smelled like rice or soup and sometimes pancakes if Shiro begged enough. He was used to the smell now since most of the Garrison personnel seemed to live on it, and the mess hall always smelled like coffee, as did most of the professors’ offices and even some of the classrooms in the early morning hours. But just because he was used to it didn’t mean he liked it. It was strong and bitter and, well—gross.

He tightened the blanket around his shoulders and moved to the kitchen island. Shiro wasn’t sure if it was the perfect seat or the worst one, because it gave him a perfect view of Keith. Keith who was dressed in a pair of dark, slim-fitting jeans and a plain white t-shirt. His hair was still rumpled from sleep, the longest bits at the back pulled up into a messy ponytail, and his bare toes were peeking out from beneath his slightly too-long pants. God he was so pretty it almost hurt.

Shiro was used to ignoring the way his body responded to attractive people, mostly. Having a boyfriend sounded nice, but it also sounded like a lot of work—a lot of commitment. Any free time needed to be dedicated to bettering himself, not kissing and mooning after someone who would eventually realize he could never give them what they wanted—a future. How could you offer someone else one when you weren’t even sure you had one?

The problem was every time Shiro looked at Keith it was hard to ignore. Keith wasn’t another stupid teenage boy who thought dick jokes were just as important as memorizing the constellations. Keith was a man. Not just any man either but an honest-to-god pilot. He’d been to space, really been there—knew what it was like to soar through galaxies and milky ways and let his ship kiss the stars. He was everything Shiro might want. If he wanted a relationship that was. Which he didn’t.

“Morning, Shiro,” Keith chirped, too cheerfully considering how early it was. Technically it was nearly ten, which was hours past when Shiro would normally have to be awake for class but considering he hadn’t fallen asleep until nearly four in the morning Shiro still considered it an abhorrent hour to be awake. The fact that Keith could be in a good mood and more attractive than ever was unfair.

Keith turned and smiled, and all blood left his body and pooled south. Collarbones. Shiro could see his collarbones. Keith’s shirt was loose in the front with a deep v-neck, and there were collarbones and a peek of dark chest hair, and Shiro’s stupid dick hardened faster than the speed of light. Shiro wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Apparently his brain hadn’t sent the memo to his dick that they were tired and sad. Being a teenager sucked.

“Morning,” Shiro answered, impressed with himself for being able to speak when faced with Keith in front of him looking like that.

“How’d you sleep?” Keith asked, leaning back against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest, an action that pulled the shirt taut against his body and revealed even more of the sharp line of his clavicle. God he really was so pretty. Pretty in a lethal way, since something told Shiro Keith could probably kick his ass. Somehow the thought make his dick even harder, and it took all his self-control not to slam his face into the kitchen island.

“Fine,” Shiro answered, which wasn’t a lie. He’d expected to toss and turn all night, but apparently crying your eyes out with an almost-stranger was exhausting and the moment Shiro’s head hit the pillow he’d fallen asleep.

“That’s good. I wasn’t really sure what time you might get up today, to be honest. Thought you uh, might be tired. You know—” he waved his arm around.

Shiro appreciated that Keith wasn’t mentioning last night. He didn’t want to either. But it also weighed heavily on his mind. 

Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, he leaned across the kitchen island, tugging the blanket up around him until his head was peeking out and his chin was resting on his folded arms.

“Sorry, about last night,” he mumbled, face pressed into his folded arms and voice muffled by the blanket.

Keith’s eyes widened. 

“Sorry? Shiro, you don’t need to apologize to me for that. When I was a kid your age I had even less control of emotions and often took them out on something far less innocent than a can of soup or a book.” He grinned, but it had little effect in the face of _when I was your agethat_ young. In two years he’d be eighteen and old enough to legally go to space. Then he’d be a man. No one would be able to tell him he wasn’t capable of anything. “Are you, uh…are you sure?”

“Yes.” His lips felt like they were thinning so he forced it into a smile, refusing to break eye contact. “Please. A big cup.”

“A big cup. A big cup of coffee,” Keith muttered, more to himself than Shiro.

Shiro straightened in his chair, unable to hold back the grimace this time as Keith turned his back on him. He set his own coffee down and began to search the cupboard, china clanking against itself as Keith managed to unearth an absolutely huge mug from the very back—white with a sleeping black cat. 

“This big enough?” he asked, turning around to show it off. It was huge and had to be equal to two of Keith’s mugs of coffee. Two mugs’ worth of black coffee. The prospect was disgusting but worth it if he could prove that he was as mature as Keith. Besides it was just coffee. How bad could it be?

“Perfect,” Shiro forced himself to answer. 

“Okay, great.” Then he reached for the coffee pot and poured. And poured. And poured. 

“Are you sure you don’t want any cream or sugar? It’s a little strong?” 

His words only served to make Shiro’s resolve strengthen. If Keith could handle it then so could he.

“Oh no, I love my coffee black. It tastes more coffeeish.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth Shiro wished he could take them back. Coffeeish. That wasn’t even a goddamn word. It was too late to take them back now though, and Shiro was nothing if not committed, even to his own bullshit.

“Right,” Keith said as if Shiro weren’t a complete and total idiot. He looked very much like he was trying not to smile. “Well, one big cup of very black coffee coming up then.”

He crossed the kitchen, depositing the steaming cup in front of Shiro. The steam wafted into his face, assaulting his nose with its pungent odor.

“Great,” Shiro said, closing his hands around the massive mug. “Nothing I love more than my morning coffee.”

At that point he couldn’t even tell if he was trying to convince himself or Keith. If Keith thought he was lying he said nothing, just padded across the counter to retrieve his own coffee, which he sipped as he watched Shiro. He halfway hoped Keith might need to do something so Shiro could dump it down the sink, but no luck.

“Too hot?” Keith queried. 

Shiro shook his head. “Nope, nothing is too hot for me. I’ve got a really tough tongue. It can handle a lot.”

This time Keith was definitely smiling, and no amount of trying to hide it behind his mug of coffee was working. He suddenly wished his cup were bigger so he could drown himself in it. _My tongue is strong._ For fuck’s sake. Maybe everyone was right and Shiro spent too much time studying and not enough time dating if the sight of one pretty boy had him turning into a human disaster.

Shiro wrapped his fingers around the handle, inhaling a deep breath as he lifted his cup. The closer it got, the stronger the smell was until he could almost taste it. Then it was at his lips, the liquid scalding hot and bitter. It was fucking gross, but there was no going back now. Shiro was absolutely not a quitter.

He made a sound that he hoped sounded like pleasure—though sort of sounded like he was constipated— as he took a chug, impressed with himself for not spitting it back out immediately.

“Good?” Keith asked, looking as if he suspected the answer.

“Delicious,” Shiro choked out, coughing a little as the bitterness lingered on his tongue. He couldn’t fathom anyone drinking it on purpose, especially without sugar or milk.

“You must be pretty tough. Took me years before I could really stomach this stuff. Back when I was…well, when I was on my own—the cheapest thing I could do was get a giant tub of store-brand coffee in a can. The caffeine got me through the sleepless nights and the warmth filled up my belly when there wasn’t enough food. Between you and me, I never drank it black out of choice.” He paused, scratching the side of his jaw and before shoving the free hand into his pocket. “I couldn’t afford all the extra sugar and milk you know? You make do. But I guess over time I just got used to the way it tasted. My best friend likes to joke that I’m crazy for drinking it like this, but I actually love it now. That bitter sting is kind of soothing to me, crazy as that probably sounds. And thankfully I’m not so poor that I’ve got to drink the crappy stuff out of the can anymore. Although if teenage me could see the me today me he’d probably have a few choice words about my cost of the coffee beans I use.”

Keith laughed and Shiro’s belly pooled with warmth. Shiro decided to take another drink, just to prove he could. Except this one was too big and Shiro couldn’t repress the shudder or the groan as the coffee went down his throat. Strong. It was so strong.

Keith was still watching him intently, and Shiro smiled, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and lifting the mug for another drink. He could do this. He’d done far worse, and it was worth it for the chance to impress Keith. Except, well, Keith didn’t look impressed. He sorta looked like he felt sorry for Shiro, which meant Shiro obviously wasn’t doing as good of a job at hiding his distaste for the coffee as he’d hoped. He lifted his mug and tried to take another sip, but his stomach recoiled and he sighed, dropping the cup onto the counter.

He didn’t look up. Didn’t want to see the triumph or pity he might see on Keith’s face. Instead, he stared at the counter and poked at the side of the mug. The only upside to this entire thing was that his stupid erection had at least taken the black coffee and embarrassment as reason enough to deflate. So when he walked away from the kitchen in shame it wouldn’t be because of his dick.

Keith cleared his throat, but Shiro couldn’t bear to look up. In the end the sound of something being pushed across the counter got his attention before the object in question came into view. Keith didn’t say anything at first, just moved the sugar bowl into Shiro’s line of view. Shiro waited, unsure if this was kindness or a test. When Shiro didn’t push it away Keith moved to the fridge, grabbing something off the door and moving back to Shiro. He shoved that across the counter towards Shiro too. It was a giant bottle of flavored coffee creamer—caramel vanilla.

“Thought you hated this kind of stuff in coffee,” Shiro wondered. He pulled the creamer closer but didn’t open it. Yet.

“Ah yeah, I do. Hate it to be honest. But my best friend, well he kind of hates coffee but—”

“Wait,” Shiro interrupted, “if he hates coffee why does he drink it?”

“You know, I was never really sure. One day he just bought a coffee pot for his place. I walked in and the entire place smelled amazing—he’d even ground the beans fresh—then he turned around holding two cups instead of one and started drinking it with me. Granted his version is about half creamer and twenty-five percent sugar so I’m not sure it even still qualifies as coffee, but it makes him happy so I just…started keeping the same things here too in case he wanted it.”

Keith shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal, though it certainly seemed that way to Shiro. He spun the bottle of creamer in front of him, staring at the label. He could finish the coffee black, he knew he could. If he had to. Shiro could do anything if he really needed to. It was just that he didn’t want to. 

“I’d really feel better if someone used that creamer otherwise it’ll go to waste. Honestly you’d be helping me out you know. I hate throwing food away.”

“I mean, I guess I could help. I probably wouldn’t mind some of this in my coffee. Just so it doesn’t go to waste is all,” Shiro said, trying to feign indifference to the idea but secretly pleased. “Not because I need it or anything.” 

“Of course,” Keith agreed, watching Shiro as he opened the cap and poured in as much as he could, filling the coffee cup to the top until it threatened to spill over.

Shiro pulled the sugar bowl close. Go big or go home he figured, spooning in a massive amount of sugar. When Keith didn’t say anything about how much he added he went ahead and did a second spoonful, watching the sugar plop into the coffee with satisfaction. He stirred slowly, afraid the coffee might spill over the edges as he leaned forward and sipped it. Unlike before when all he could taste was bitterness, the coffee was now rich with milk and perfectly sweet. The coffee was still a little too strong for him but the sugar and milk was enough that it was, well—almost delicious. He leaned over the counter to take another sip until the mug wasn’t on the cusp of overflowing then lifted it up to take a deep chug. The creamer hadn’t only sweetened it, but dropped the coffee down to pleasantly warm instead of scalding liquid of death, and Shiro found himself almost chugging it, humming to himself. God he could see why someone might drink coffee if it always tasted like this.

“Good?” Keith asked and Shiro lifted his eyes for the first time, realizing Keith must’ve been watching him the entire time.

He lowered the cup, licking the coffee from his lips and blushing. “Yeah, it’s uh, not bad.”

Keith’s lips turned up in the corner, his entire face transformed by just the hint of a smile.

Doomed. Shiro was doomed.

And the worst part was that he had no idea if it was because of the gaps in his memory or the mysterious flying robotic lion or the beautiful man in front of him making Shiro ache for things he was never supposed to want.

Shiro only had room in his life for one possibly unrealistic dream, and it was traveling to space. He’d fight tooth and nail for that dream if it killed him. There was no room in his heart for wanting a boyfriend—or even more crazy, love—too.

***

Shiro chewed on his bottom lip, watching Keith over the top of the book he was supposed to be reading. The top of the book of which he’d read the exact same paragraph at least five times. It was hard to care about make-believe space explorers saving the world when Shiro’s entire world felt like a snowglobe that someone might decide to turn upside down and shake at any moment. Keith had been apologetic about Shiro needing to stay put, offering up a book that Shiro had pretended to be excited about so Keith wouldn’t feel bad. Unfortunately pretending to care about it was proving damn near impossible.

It didn’t help that every single time he looked at Keith—curled up on the opposite end of the couch reading some kind of massive report—everything felt wonky. His stomach flipped and flopped like the one time he’d gone on a roller coaster as a kid, and his throat felt too small to even swallow his own spit. It was making Shiro crazy trying to remember Keith. The harder he tried to focus on the few memories of Keith from his childhood, the further away they’d slipped. They weren’t so much memories as feelings—feelings of being safe and cared for. Feelings that didn’t make any sense since Shiro’s grandparents never talked about Keith. Ever. 

Shiro half wanted Keith to notice he was struggling, to ask him if he was okay. Then immediately felt stupid for wanting that since he knew he’d probably say he was fine even if Keith did ask. Besides, Keith was so enraptured with whatever it was that he was reading that he’d barely spared Shiro a glance in the last hour. Not that Shiro was bothered by the lack of attention, because that would’ve been pathetic.

With a sigh he dropped his head back onto the arm of the couch, watching Keith through the slats of his not-actually closed eyes.

Keith didn’t move a move a muscle. Shiro sighed again, a little louder. Nothing.

Almost as if his body wasn’t under his control he felt his lips turn down in what his grandmother would’ve called a pout, but which Shiro would insist until his dying days was merely an exaggerated frown. Then sighed as loudly but as subtly as he could, resisting the urge to smile when Keith finally looked up from his stack of papers.

“Everything okay?” Keith asked, eyes wide as he stared at Shiro. 

His eyes were such a dark blue they were almost purple. He reached out to rest a hand on Shiro’s leg and Shiro’s heart swelled. 

“Yeah, fine just—” but he trailed off unsure how to quantify his _just_ in a way that didn’t make him feel even more pathetic.

Somehow Keith seemed to know, tossing his papers down onto the coffee table before turning his full attention on Shiro. “I’ve got a deck of cards somewhere. Wanna play a game?”

“Oh yeah,” Shiro agreed, clearing his throat when he realized how eager he probably sounded. “I mean…that could be cool. If you wanted to play that is. You know…if you’re not too busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you,” Keith answered.

For one heart-stopping second Shiro wasn’t sure if he was teasing or not, but his face flooded with warmth just the same. Something in Keith’s eyes shuttered. Before Shiro could ask what was wrong Keith had leapt off the couch and began to walk towards his room. “I’ll be right back, just stay here.”

“Sure,” Shiro answered, as if he could go anywhere else.

When Keith returned a few minutes later whatever it was that seemed to have upset him was gone, a deck of cards in one hand and a smile on his face.

“So, ready to lose?” Keith queried, waving the cards in his direction.

“I’m glad to hear you’ve accepted your defeat already,” Shiro shot back. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling when Keith gaped at him.

“Smartass,” Keith snorted, face ripe with undisguised amusement. “Let me rephrase this in a way that can have no misunderstanding. Are you, Takashi Shirogane, ready to lose to me?” he dropped down onto his corner of the couch, shaking the cards out of their box and into his palm.

Shiro had no idea what game Keith wanted to play, but whatever it was, he had no intention of losing.

“Not a chance,” he answered, tossing his book onto the floor.

Keith laughed and Shiro felt it echo in his chest in time with the steady thrumming of his heartbeat.

***

After nearly two days together—days spent playing card games, making small talk that didn’t feel forced the way Shiro was used to, and occasionally watching reruns of shows Shiro had somehow never heard of—Shiro was feeling surprisingly calm.

Calm and, well—frustrated. Or maybe confused. Or bored. Or just some unquantifiable combination of all four of them.

He tapped his fingers along the side of his mug of cocoa, staring at the remains of his too-many marshmallows clinging to the side and the thick globs of chocolate. He was tempted to ask Keith if he could have more, just to have something to talk about, or an excuse to stay up. Except he’d had two full cups already, and if he had a third there was a good chance he might actually throw up or something and Shiro really wasn’t in the mood to embarrass himself further in front of Keith.

It was nearing ten at night, and Shiro was running out of excuses not to go to bed. 

Keith had spent the last half an hour on his datapad intensively reading something as if it were life or death information. Shiro had tried to make a few jokes that had only earned him a half-hearted grunt and none of Keith’s undivided attention. He’d also made one sole attempt to engage Keith in another round of cards, even going so far as to joke he’d let Keith beat him, but there had been no response. He wasn’t sure if Keith hadn’t heard him or if Keith were ignoring him. He hadn’t felt at all inclined to ask again to find out in case the answer turned out to be the one he didn’t want. 

He knew it was stupid to be put out that Keith was preoccupied. It only made sense that Keith had important things to do that didn’t center around entertaining a teenager he barely knew. Surely he had other people who needed him or maybe some top-secret Garrison job Shiro was keeping him from or even some frivolous hobbies to occupy his time. It was silly for Shiro to assume that just because Keith had been so concerned about his safety in the beginning he’d continue to devote all his focus to Shiro. Of course he would occasionally need to divert that focus somewhere else. It made perfect sense. Except Shiro didn’t really care about what made sense since nothing else in his life made any sense, and the only thing making his life not feel like a comet heading for collision was Keith’s calming presence and smile. He liked Keith. More than made sense for the short time he could recall knowing him. 

Thinking about liking Keith made it easier not to focus on the other things. Things like why he still couldn’t remember where he’d been last week or why most of the questions he asked were answered with _I wish I could tell you but I can’t_. 

In lieu of having anything he wanted to focus on and unable to get enough attention from Keith to distract himself, Shiro had spent the better part of the day trying to figure out what exactly it was on Keith’s datapad that was so much more interesting than his company. But every time Shiro would casually try to figure out why Keith seemed attached at the hip to his datapad since lunch—picking it up and checking his notifications constantly—Keith would change the subject. 

Shiro had hoped Keith might stay up late to watch a movie with him like the night before, but instead he’d apologized to Shiro, plied him with hot cocoa, and then sat at the kitchen table and began poring over his datapad again as if it contained the answers to the creation of the universe. Whatever it was was clearly important. More important than Shiro. He wanted to ask Keith one more time to watch a movie, but he wasn’t sure he could handle being told no again, especially since Keith seemed, well, distant. Which was a ridiculous thing to think. He barely knew Keith, and yet.

Shiro inwardly groaned the second that thought came even close to crossing his mind. That was a road he didn’t want to go down. Not tonight. Or possibly not ever.

He tipped his mug, eyeing the last cold dredges of cocoa in the bottom before lifting it to his mouth and chugging it if for no other reason than to have something to do. If he slurped the last bit a little louder than necessary, just to let Keith know he was done, well, there was no shame in that. When he was done he dropped the cup onto the counter.

Nothing.

Shiro dropped his chin into his hands. He should let Keith do whatever it was he was doing, should probably just get up and go to sleep.

“Busy, huh?” Shiro found himself blurting, as if unable to get his mouth to have any common sense.

At that Keith looked up. “Huh?”

Shiro crossed his arms on the counter. “Um, you’re busy. With, you know—that.” He nodded towards the datapad in Keith’s hand.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He swiped his thumb across the screen, closing whatever it was he’d been reading before setting it down onto the kitchen table. “It’s nothing important.”

Shiro’s resolve faltered. Keith didn’t owe him anything, not even the truth. But such an obvious lie was still hard to swallow. For better and worse, Shiro had always been too stubborn to let things go, though.

“I bet you can’t wait to get back to your regular life, huh?”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Oh you know, back to your job and friends. Back to your normal life where you’re not stuck watching me. I’m sure it’s really boring. You’ve gotta have better things to do, better things waiting for you outside the door.” The words felt too close to the truth—to the worries that’d been swirling through his mind the last few hours—and Shiro forced out a laugh.

“Shiro, no. It’s not like that.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure you have things you’d rather do than spend all day cooped up with me. People who miss you.” Shiro licked his lips, hesitating. But before he could stop himself the rest had spilled out. “Bet your girlfriend or boyfriend really misses you.”

“My, what?” Keith choked out.

Warmth flooded Shiro’s cheeks but he forced himself to continue. He was in too deep to give up now. “Someone like you, who uh…you know,” he rubbed at his face wishing he weren’t as prone to blushing and hoping Keith didn’t notice “You just, I mean, you’ve got a mirror, you know how you look. And you know, you’re smart and cool. You must have someone.”

Keith’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.

“Sorry, that was too personal. It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me.”

“Oh, Shiro.”

There was something pitying in his tone that made bile rise in the back of Shiro’s throat. Shit. 

“Oh my god, wow, look at the time I am so tired,” Shiro lied.

Keith pushed back his chair, rising to stand. He took a step, moving towards Shiro, and everything in Shiro’s body screamed abort. Moving so quickly he almost fell off his barstool, he scooted backwards and sidestepped Keith to get out of the small kitchen area. 

“Shiro.”

“I just…tired. I’m so tired. Goodnight, Keith.”

Then he practically ran from the room, slamming the bedroom door shut behind and plopping onto the end of his bed. He dropped his head into his hands and waited, listening for the sounds of Keith’s footsteps in case he followed Shiro to make sure he was alright.

Keith never came.

***

It was the smell of bacon and eggs frying that roused Shiro from his slumber and out of his room the following morning.

The night before he’d fallen asleep hidden beneath his blankets, positive that nothing short of the threat of an alien invasion would be enough to get him to leave the bedroom and face Keith. Turned out, though, Shiro was also highly motivated by the promise of food. Especially when it involved breakfast food—Shiro’s favorite meal of the day.

With no small amount of trepidation he made his way out of the bedroom and down the hallway. Despite the smell of food cooking he was somehow still surprised to find Keith standing in the middle of the kitchen cooking. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if Keith had any reason to hide since he wasn’t the one who’d been an awkward disaster. Unlike the morning before there was nothing sleepy or rumpled about him today. His hair was brushed and lying against his shoulders, and he was wearing boots. If he hadn’t been in the middle of cooking Shiro would’ve almost thought he was going somewhere.

“Good morning,” Shiro greeted, doing his best to pretend he wasn’t feeling awkward as hell as he hovered near the kitchen wearing a smile that was as foreign as the striped pajamas on his body.

“Morning, Shiro. I wasn’t sure how hungry you might be today so I just made the works.” He waved his spatula towards the table, which was piled high with more food than two people could ever eat. Shiro’s stomach grumbled in appreciation. Most mornings at the Garrison breakfast was a harried and sleepy affair with far less. Not that Shiro ever went hungry, but there was a big difference between standing in line in the mess hall for mysteriously chunky oatmeal and the feast Keith had spread out on the table.

“This looks amazing,” he said, immediately taking a seat at the kitchen table. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Keith smiled, and some of Shiro’s nervousness began to dissolve. Keith was acting the same as always. This wasn’t weird. It didn’t need to be weird. “I’m afraid it’s pretty simple. I’m not a great cook but breakfast is kinda my thing.”

“It’s my favorite,” Shiro told him, beginning to pile toast and bacon on his plate.

“What a coincidence,” Keith said around a grin. “It’s mine too.”

He stirred the eggs then grabbed the skillet handle, walking towards Shiro with it and tipping a steaming pile of perfectly scrambled eggs onto the empty plate in the middle of the table. Without hesitation Shiro grabbed the serving spoon and piled half his plate with eggs.

“Hungry?” Keith laughed.

Shiro nodded, a forkful of eggs already making its way to his mouth. They were probably going to burn the roof of his mouth, and he didn’t care. It’d been months since someone had made him breakfast, and he wasn’t about to take it for granted, even if the circumstances were strange and confusing and a little unnerving. It was easy to forget what was going on or where they really were when he was tucked away inside Keith’s apartment—easy to pretend Keith was cooking for him because he liked him and not because he had to.

This was fine. Things were fine.

Until Shiro realized maybe they weren’t. Until Shiro was halfway through his breakfast and Keith was done pretending to straighten up the kitchen and still hadn’t sat down.

“You’re not going to eat?” he asked, toast dangling from between his fingers.

“I’m not really hungry this morning. I actually, uh—” he paused, licking his lips and tapping his fingers on the cup of coffee held between his hands. There was a tension in his body that hadn’t been there a moment before, and Shiro hated it. “I have to go out today for a little bit. And do, well…something. It’s uh—you know.”

“Classified,” Shiro finished.

“Not exactly just—”

“It’s cool, you don’t have to explain to me,” Shiro mumbled, dropping the rest of his toast onto his plate. Suddenly he wasn’t very hungry anymore. “I’ll be fine here alone. Don’t worry about it.”

Keith sighed. “You uh, you can’t be alone.”

Shiro frowned. “I’m not a baby. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can, buddy. But everyone would feel better if you weren’t left alone. Just in case.”

“In case what?” Shiro questioned, getting a bit fed up with answers that didn’t feel like answers.

“Just…just in case. I know that probably isn’t the answer you want but I promise when you’re older it’ll make more sense.”

Shiro bristled. He was sixteen.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he whined, annoyed at the petulance he could hear in his own voice.

“They’re not babysitters. They’re friends. You’re gonna like them.”

Shiro felt like that was debatable but he held his tongue, picking up his fork and stabbing his eggs with more force than was necessary. 

This was going to suck.

***

By the time Keith left on his mystery errand a few hours later, Shiro was almost glad to see him go.

Keith had spent the entire morning being nice to Shiro. Too nice—as if he were handling Shiro with kid gloves. He kept smiling at Shiro and filling every second of silence with small talk in a way that made Shiro want to run away. It was awkward in a way things hadn't been since Shiro had found himself flat on the ground and staring up into pretty violet eyes that first time.

Keith’s eyes then had been filled with kindness and concern, but now they were filled with something that was too close to pity for Shiro’s comfort. There was a tightness in his eyes when he smiled at Shiro, and though he was as nice as ever, it felt tainted. 

When the knock at the front door came, less than five minutes after Keith left, Shiro contemplated ignoring it just out of spite. Only a lifetime of his grandparents drilling good manners into him had him rising from the couch and answering the door on the second knock.

“Hi,” two voices greeted him in unison.

“Hello,” Shiro answered, taking a step back and opening the door. 

The first guy stepped inside and Shiro took a moment to assess him. He wasn’t in Garrison uniform either, instead dressed in a pair of cargo pants with a shirt the color of sunflowers and his slightly messy hair kept off his face with a matching bandanna. He was nearly as tall as Shiro but twice as broad, with a square jaw and an easy smile. 

“I’m Hunk,” he introduced, holding a hand out to Shiro.

“I’m Shiro.”

“We know who you are, dude,” the second guy chimed in.

Shiro gave him a thorough once-over trying to assess him. He too had a wide smile, but that was the similarities with his friend ended. Where Hunk was broad, this guy was lanky as a beanpole. Where Hunk’s smile was easy, his was a bit manic. He was dressed in a pair of jeans with a blue t-shirt and tennis shoes and didn’t have the calm energy Hunk was exuding in buckets. His energy, was—well, Shiro didn’t know what it was. “Wow, you’re like really small.”

Shiro could feel his nose scrunching up, lips thinning into a frown.

“You’re small,” he shot back.

The guy made a choking noise, clutching his hands to his chest. “Hey now! I’m not small! I’m exactly three inches above the national average for American males. Which technically puts me above average in height, and everything else really.”

He winked at Shiro. Shiro’s frown deepened.

“Uh, I think what Lance here meant to say was hello and it’s nice to meet you,” Hunk interjected, clapping Lance on the back. “Isn’t that what you meant to say, buddy?”

“Huh, oh yeah. Nice to meet you, Shiro. Keith’s uh…told us all about you. Good guy that Keith.”

Shiro’s frown lessened, but only slightly. “He didn’t tell me about you.”

It was a lie, he had told Shiro all about both of them—or tried to anyway—but Shiro had tuned him out, something that he now deeply regretted. The only things he’d managed to catch through his mental humming were the words “trustworthy” and “pilots.” If they were friends of Keith’s they were probably decent enough guys, and they seemed nice. Or Hunk did. Shiro was still unsure what to make of Lance.

He knew it wasn’t their fault he was feeling out of sorts, but he resented them for being there all the same. He didn’t feel like being around anyone new, and he sure as hell didn’t need a babysitter. Shiro might not have been able to control much in his life right then but he could choose who to like, and he refused to like them on principle alone.

***

“Dude, you cannot be a mage,” Lance crowed, swiping the dice from in front of Hunk. “I called mage first. Besides if anyone in this room is best suited to the role its me. A mage needs to be wise, calm under pressure, and able to withstand the temptation to use their magic for personal gain. Obviously this is a perfect role for someone of my high intelligence and upstanding moral character.”

Hunk snorted. “You could be the stable boy.”

“The stable boy. The _stable boy_ ,” Lance screeched. “You better watch out because I’m going to roll these dice in a minute and set your measly little inn and stables on fire the first chance I get.”

“Oh yeah, great moral character there, buddy.” 

Hunk looked at Shiro and grinned as if they were sharing a secret and Shiro buried his face into his folded arms to stifle his laughter as Lance pulled a face that wouldn’t have been out of place on a five-year-old. It made Shiro laugh harder.

Despite his every intention to ensure the contrary, he really liked Hunk and Lance. It was impossible not to. He’d spent hours doing his best to stay indifferent to them, but they were friendly and funny and easy to be around. His ultimate defeat had come when Hunk had pulled some sort of role-playing game called _Monsters & Mana_ out of his bag, and Shiro’s curiosity and boredom had won over his stubbornness. He was glad for it now. He still wasn’t entirely sure he understood the game, but it seemed fun enough even if it’d taken half an hour to get to the place where they were finally picking their roles.

“No respect man. No respect,” Lance grumbled, though he didn’t look too upset.

“You win this game and maybe you’ll earn my respect,” Hunk challenged. “Anyway, I called mage first. So I officially claim mage and innkeeper as my roles and uh…my name is Inigo.”

Lance stuck out his tongue at Hunk but passed him the dice again. “Fine. I didn’t really wanna be a mage anyway. All that magic is only an illusion of power. Just call me Darkshadow. I’m the ninja assassin who is going to steal your money and titles while you sleep with the power of my bare hands. No silly magic needed.”

He looked at Shiro and waggled his eyebrows. 

“What about you, Shiro? Who are you going to be?” Hunk asked. “Or do you need more time to decide? I can go over the roles again if you want or—”

“No, I don’t need time to decide. I know what I wanna be,” Shiro said, sitting up straighter.

“Yeah, alright then. What is it? Let me guess,” Lance chirped. “You wanna be a prince.”

Shiro shook his head.

“Who would want to be a prince when you could be king?” Hunk said. “It’s that right. You wanna be the king?”

He shook his head again.

“Uhh…dragon shapeshifter? Fire bender? Dark wizard?”

“Not even close,” Shiro laughed.

“Well don't keep us waiting in suspense, man. What is it?”

Shiro smiled. “I want to be a paladin.”

Lance made a noise like a dying whale. “Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Shiro asked, hunching his shoulders. The paladin role seemed like the best one in the entire game to him. There was no one to rely on but yourself, you got to decide your own fate and you got to help people. It seemed perfect. Or so he thought.

“Nothing dude,” Hunk insisted. The table wobbled and Shiro was pretty sure Hunk had kicked Lance beneath the table.

“Oh yeah, nothing. Sorry. I was just…uh, surprised. Paladin is a perfect role for you.”

“Why don’t you roll first,” Hunk offered, snatching the dice from Lance’s hand and rolling them towards Shiro. “But you need a name first, Mr. Paladin. What should we call you.”

Shiro pursed his lips, trying to think of something as creative as Hunk and Lance’s names had been. As good as theirs were, the idea of calling himself something like Silverstreak didn’t feel right. He could feel both of their eyes on him as he clicked his tongue in contemplation. 

“Hiro,” he finally said after long seconds of silence. “You can call me Hiro.”

The table shook again, and Lance winced, shooting daggers at Hunk. “I was just gonna say that's a perfect name for Shiro.”

“That’s good because it’s a fantastic name,” Hunk agreed. He gave Shiro a thumbs up, and though it was an exaggerated amount of enthusiasm for his choice it made him happy nonetheless. 

“So are we ready to play or what? Because I’m definitely ready to win,” Lance said happily.

Hunk laughed. “I don’t know about that. I think me or Shiro are gonna give you a good run for it.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agreed. “I bet I’ll win.”

Lance made a disbelieving face. “We shall see about that.”

Shiro rolled his dice and smiled. Oh yeah, he was definitely going to win.

***

An hour later Shiro was tired of losing. Or more specifically dying. No matter what choices he made Hiro seemed doomed to die—death by a dragon, death by poisoned soup, death by drowning, death by Inigo’s out-of-control magic. You name it, Shiro had died by it, and he was getting pretty damn sick of dying.

“You could try something different,” Hunk suggested. “You know, uh…that is to say. What I mean is maybe if—”

“He means try something besides a paladin,” Lance interjected. He shuffled the cards in front of him once more, placing the stack in the center of the board. “Might, you know, improve your odds of survival.”

“I think I’d rather do something else,” Shiro admitted. His enthusiasm for the game had dwindled with every death, and all he was feeling now was dejected and hungry.

“Sure,” Hunk agreed easily. “Did you have anything in mind? I know Keith’s taste in movies leaves a lot to be desired, but if I called Pidge I bet I could get her to hook us up with some real classics. She told me she was nosing around online in the national archives last month when she got bored—”

“Wait, Pidge doesn’t have access to the national archives.”

Hunk grinned. “You can have access to anything if you’re smart enough.”

Lance pursed his lips, letting out a low whistle. “I’m glad Pidge is on our side.”

“You and me both. Anyway, like I was saying she found some really old videos. I’m talking like a couple hundred years old. She’s been working on cleaning up the files to see if she can get them to play on the holo projector.”

“What’s the movie?” Lance asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Uh, _Star Wars_.”

Lance scoffed. “That sounds boring. We lived an actual war in the stars, thank you very much.”

“When did you go to war in the stars?” Shiro asked, curiosity over ruling politeness.

Lance looked like a deer caught in headlights and he snapped his mouth shut, looking at Hunk.

“The game, buddy. _Monsters & ManaStar Wars_,” Hunk corrected.

“No one cares, dude.”

“Shiro might care.”

“Shiro only wants food,” he butted in, not at all comfortable being in the middle of anyone else’s fight. 

At that Hunk brightened. “Oh, food. Why didn’t you say so? Food I can definitely provide.”

“If we’re gonna have food then I want pizza,” Lance said, not that anyone had asked. “With anchovies.”

“Only you would ruin pizza with anchovies. You know what I could really go for right now? Some Laulau or maybe some Kalua pig. Oh man, or my mom’s chicken long rice. I haven’t had that in years.”

“I could go for a cheeseburger,” Shiro chimed in, since it seemed like the thing to do. Truthfully though he was hungry enough to eat almost anything. He wasn’t picky.

“Yeah, well, I think you’re both forgetting one important thing,” Lance interjected, “Keith never has any decent food in his place. I’m pretty sure he’s a gremlin disguised as a human who exists on cereal and coffee. It cannot be healthy. Seriously. It’s probably why he’s so pale and pointy. If he ate better he might have a more robust complexion like me.”

Sallow and pointy weren’t exactly the words Shiro would’ve used to describe Keith’s appearance, but he wisely kept that thought to himself.

“That’s rich coming from the guy who used to eat packs of instant ramen back when we were roommates at the Garrison and you missed dinner in because you can’t read a clock,” Hunk laughed.

“I like ramen,” Shiro offered.

“Thank you, Shiro. I’m glad to see at least one person here has some taste. And tact.” Lance grinned. “Plus, it’s delicious.”

“Yeah, well, did I mention this was the cheap stuff in the plastic bags that could survive an apocalypse? He used to eat it uncooked. Uncooked, Shiro. He’d sprinkle the flavor packet on top and then smash it up and eat it like it was chips or something it was disgusting. Imagine trying to study while your roommate chomps down on frankenfood.” Hunk shuddered dramatically.

“That sounds pretty gross,” Shiro agreed, shrugging an apology to Lance who made no effort to hide his obvious shock and betrayal.

“Shiro, my man. My dude. My newest compadre. I thought we were buddies. Now you’re gonna do me dirty like this in my time of need.”

Shiro poked at the dice in front of him, suddenly self-conscious. Before he could say anything he was saved by Hunk.

“Don’t listen to him, Shiro. Lance is always in need. He might as well be a damsel in distress.”

“Excuse you, I am not a damsel in distress. I don’t need saving.” He uncrossed his arms and sat up straighter, puffing out his chest like a lion cub.

“Uh-huh. Whatever, Lance. Bet you’d let Allura save you, huh?” Hunk grinned, waggling his eyebrows.

To Shiro’s surprise, Lance actually blushed.

“Oh, I uh…I mean. Well, Allura is really strong and um—” Hunk laughed harder, and Lance groaned. “Shut the fuck up, dude. Look, Allura is a goddess and she can do anything she wants. God I’d let her step on me and probably say thank you.”

Allura. That name was so familiar. Then it clicked. The pretty woman from his hospital room.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Shiro asked.

Lance didn’t blush this time. “She is. I’m the luckiest guy in the whole damn world too. She’s so smart and funny and nice, and beautiful too.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty. You know…if you’re uh, into that thing.”

“If by _thing_ you mean _literal perfection_ ,” Lance said.

“I meant women,” Shiro clarified, clearing his throat. He straightened his shoulders, waiting for one of them to say something.

“Fair enough,” Lance conceded, nodding his head. “What’s your type then, huh?”

Shiro felt his cheeks warm. He’d never had anyone ask him that. Ever. Immediately his mind flashed to Keith, and his face heated even more, stomach fluttering as if it were full of butterflies.

“I dunno. Um…someone nice, someone who I felt like I could trust. Someone I don’t have to hold back with.” Again his mind flashed to images of Keith—the way he’d held him when he cried, and laughed with him when he smiled. It’d only been a few days, and somehow he felt closer to Keith than to any of his friends at the Garrison. 

“That’s sweet,” Hunk said, voice devoid of platitudes.

“It is sweet,” Lance agreed, “But what’s your type, Shiro? Come on, we’re just bros sharing. You already know my type.”

“Someone who could step on you,” Hunk interjected.

Lance flipped him off, and Shiro found himself laughing. Then inexplicably he found himself talking.

“I like dark hair. Someone tall and lean but strong. Pretty eyes and a nice smile. Maybe a leather jacket and a messy little ponytail.”

When he stopped talking he looked up from the table to see Lance and Hunk having some sort of silent conversation with their eyebrows.

“What?” he blurted.

“Nothing,” Hunk said at the same time that Lance said, “You just described Keith.”

Hunk kicked Lance beneath the table, and Lance groaned. “Stop doing that! He did!”

Shiro ducked his head. “Oh. I mean you know…Keith is pretty.”

Keith was a lot of things. Pretty was definitely one of them but he also kind and strong and smart and really funny. 

Neither of them said anything, and Shiro felt compelled to fill the silence. “Does um…does Keith have a type?”

“Oh yeah,” Lance answered without hesitation. “Six foot four and massively thick. Built like a brick house. Smile like a boy scout. ”

Shiro felt his insides deflate like a balloon with a hole. He might’ve had a recent growth spurt, but he wasn’t built like that. If anything he more closely resembled an overgrown string bean.

“So he’s got a boyfriend,” Shiro mumbled, more of a statement than a question.

“I wouldn’t say that exactly,” Hunk answered. “More like, well—it’s complicated.”

Complicated. He’d heard that more times than he could count since he’d woken up on the floor of a flying space lion. Shiro wasn’t sure he wanted to be a grown-up if everything was complicated. Then again if his body had its own way maybe he wouldn’t be an adult for very long anyway.

“So, how about that food, huh,” Lance said, rapping his knuckles on the table. “I’m starving.”

“Sure, food sounds great,” Shiro lied, his appetite noticeably gone.

“What do you know, Lance had a good idea for one.” Hunk pushed back his chair, rising to stand and pointedly ignoring Lance’s spluttering. “Let's get to the kitchen and see what we can scrounge up. Keith’s gotta have something I can turn into a meal.”

***

“Wait, wait I don’t think this is a good—” but Hunk’s words were cut off by the explosion in the microwave.

“I’m not opening it, Hunk,” Lance announced, taking two steps backward.

“I’m not opening it either,” Hunk echoed. “Nope. No way.”

Shiro shook his head. “I’ll do it.”

“That’s my man. Taking one for the team like always.” Lance clapped Shiro on the back as he moved between Hunk and Lance and towards the microwave. He spared one sideways glance at Hunk who gave him an encouraging smile. Right, Shiro thought. He’d braved worse, and this was just food. Or food adjacent anyway. Shiro reached out and wrapped his fingers around the handle, then pulled it open.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, the smell that came out—something burnt and sour—or the globs of slimy liquid that dripped down onto the stove.

“Shit, that is rank!” Lance yelled, running around the kitchen island and planting himself as far away from the microwave as possible without actually leaving the kitchen.

“That’s…I mean…wow,” Hunk muttered. “Maybe it tastes better than it smells.”

“Dude, that implies one of us would actually try it. Which I refuse to do.”

“I mean, I’ll try anything once,” Hunk offered. He stepped closer, sniffing at the air then gagging, body recoiling. “Nope, never mind. Even I have my limits.”

Shiro had no desire to try it either. He opened the door further, staring at the plate of soggy pickles, exploded globs of cheese, and dried out pieces of undercooked pasta stuck to the top of the microwave. He was pretty sure the mayonnaise and butter had curdled, which accounted for the rancid smell, and the corners of the pickle pieces were black. It was one of the most disgusting things Shiro had ever seen.

“I’m not trying it either,” Shiro said.

“That’s okay, buddy. We can just call hamburger mac and cheese an epic fail and move on. Seemed like a good idea at the time but nothing everything lives up to expectations.”

“It didn’t seem like a good idea at the time to me. Just for the record,” Lance clarified. 

Hunk opened his mouth, presumably to remind Lance that he’d been the one to suggest they microwave the casserole instead of bake it so everyone could eat faster when the bolt on the front door turned. Shiro’s heart leapt into his throat as he turned and watched the front door swing open and Keith stepped through. Keith. He’d been so preoccupied helping Lance and Hunk with their food experiments he’d forgotten about Keith and his stupid feelings, at least for a tiny bit.

Now though, god, now though they came rushing back to Shiro in a rush. Keith stood in the doorway grinning, the tension in his eyes from earlier visibly missing as he hung his keys by the door and stepped into the apartment. His hair was windswept—messily pulled back in a haphazard ponytail with long bits hanging out to frame his face and skimming the back of his neck. His cheeks were unmistakably wind chapped and a pretty red color sat high on his cheeks giving him a liveliness he’d lacked before. He’d clearly spent the day outside. There was a noticeable lightness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He looked beautiful and carefree, and the knowledge that it had come because of time away from Shiro was like a knife to the chest. 

It was stupid, Shiro knew it was stupid. Keith had his own life as did Shiro. And yet.

And yet it stung.

As juvenile and pathetic as it was, Shiro wanted to matter—to the world and, for reasons he couldn't comprehend, to Keith. He hated himself for it, didn’t understand why it was so important to him. But the itch was there just the same to prove to himself that he mattered. To prove to Keith that he was more than a stupid teenager causing him problems.

Keith’s smile fell as he sniffed the air, his eyes roving over the piles of dishes and packages of food scattered across the kitchen island. Even to Shiro it looked like a disaster, and he’d been a part of making the mess. He could only imagine how it looked to Keith, especially since it was his place.

“What the hell is going on?” Keith asked. His nose wrinkled up in obvious displeasure.

“We were trying to cook,” Hunk explained. 

“It doesn’t smell like cooking. It smells like something died,” Keith deadpanned.

“That’s rich coming from the man who lives on cold cereal and coffee as black as his soul.” Lance smiled

“Excuse me, I can cook,” Keith shot back, flipping Lance off before shrugging off his leather jacket and hanging it by the door. 

“You can cook only mac and cheese and breakfast, and we all know why.” He cocked his head and gave Keith a look that was full of meaning. Well, if you had any idea what Lance was talking about, which Shiro didn't. Once again he was reminded of what an outsider he was in their group. Shiro always been on the outside. As an only child with no parents he’d fit in better with adults than kids his own age. Then as one of the youngest cadets and a teachers’ favorite he’d stood out from his peers—not disliked, but not quite one of them either. 

He’d felt like he fit with Keith, until he hadn’t. He’d even almost thought Hunk and Lance were his friends until he remembered they were Keith’s and he was merely borrowing them. Everything was temporary. His place here. His place on Earth period.

“So, what exactly were you trying to cook?” Keith asked, clearly ignoring whatever insinuations Lance was attempting to make. He strode across the room, planting himself right beside Shiro and peeking into the microwave.

“A casserole. Sort of. Shiro wanted a cheeseburger but you didn’t have stuff but then I found pasta and well…we improvised and tried to make a kind of cheeseburger mac and cheese thing. Except you know without cheese or meat.”

“Right,” Keith said. “It looks disgusting. No offense.”

“No offense taken, it’s pretty bad,” Hunk laughed. “No one is brave enough to try it and—”

“I’ll try it,” Shiro found himself saying. He was brave enough. Or stupid enough. He wasn’t sure which one.

Three sets of eyes turned on him.

“Dude, you do not need to sacrifice yourself like this.” For once Lance was the voice of reason.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, Shiro.” Keith’s voice was and kind. “I can go get us something from the mess hall or the kitchens and bring it back here.”

Keith didn’t think he could handle it. Well, he’d show him.

Ignoring the gentle hand at his back he grabbed the spoon off the counter and dunked it into the dish in the microwave, stomach turning as he drew the spoonful of curdled gunk—somehow both over- and undercooked at once—towards his own mouth.

“Shiro, no,” Keith tried, but it was no use. He was gonna prove he could handle anything even if it killed him. Which this food very well might.

“I got this,” Shiro said, with all the confidence and bravado he used on his teachers before sim training. Fake it until you make it. And Shiro was going to make it.

Despite the desire to keep his mouth clamped shut, he opened it, resisting the urge to gag as the putrid smell of spoiled dairy and burnt pickle assaulted his senses. The only thing worse than the smell was the way it tasted—gloopy and thick on his tongue and sour. So sour. It was wrong, wrong, wrong, and the only thing that stopped Shiro from gagging or throwing up was the knowledge that Keith’s eyes were watching him intently.

“Dude he’s actually chewing it,” Lance observed, voice full of awe.

“Shiro, are you okay?” Hunk asked. “You look like you’re going to be sick?”

Shiro tried to smile around the mouthful of hell, but it was definitely more of a grimace. He just needed to chew a few more times and then he could swallow and get this over with. Except the next bite was chewy in a way that it shouldn’t have been—a clump of congealed milk stuck to the roof of his mouth.

“Oh my god, he’s gonna blow,” Lance said, in the most unhelpful bit of commentary Shiro had ever heard.

“He does sorta look like he might throw up,” Hunk agreed.

Shiro wanted to call them traitors, but his mouth was too full of the worst thing it he’d ever had the misfortune of tasting so he kept chewing like his life depended on it. 

“Hey, you okay?” It was Keith, a hand on his bicep and dark eyes boring into his.

Shiro absolutely would not show weakness. He’d shown enough of that to last him a lifetime. 

He attempted to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace as he swallowed.

“Wow,” Lance breathed, letting out a low whistle. “I’m impressed dude.”

Keith grabbed a bottle of water from the counter, which Shiro accepted gratefully, letting out a pleased smile once his mouth no longer tasted like the underside of a gym shoe and whatever mystery mash they liked to serve in the mess hall on Tuesdays.

“Told you I could handle it,” he said, words directed to Keith.

Keith grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “Ah, to be young again.”

Shiro’s smile wilted as Hunk and Lance dissolved into a convoluted story about the time they’d snuck into the kitchens after lights out to try and find a secret stash of brownies they’d sworn Commander Iverson must’ve been hiding. 

Keith laughed heartily, learning against the fridge and sending Shiro a wink as he joined in with his own _when I was young_ story.

Shiro sighed. 

Well, that had backfired specularly.

***

“Seems like you had a good time with Hunk and Lance today, yeah?”

Keith dropped down onto the sofa beside Shiro.

Shiro nodded. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“I’m glad. I thought you’d like them and you deserve to just be young and have fun. Can’t believe I missed out on _Monsters & Mana_ again, though.”

Young. Shiro had lost count of how many times Keith had called him young.

“It’s pretty fun. Unless you keep dying,” Shiro said. He picked at a loose thread on the hem of his t-shirt.

“Ah yeah. Hunk might’ve mentioned you died a few times.” Keith made a sympathetic noise. “Tell you what, next time you play maybe we can team up. See if I can’t save you a few times.”

“I think you’d probably need to save me a lot. I wasn’t very good,” Shiro confessed. He hated the idea of losing, but he didn’t mind the idea of being saved if it was going to be by Keith.

“I’m pretty sure I can handle saving you, Shiro.” He swallowed audibly. He smiled but there was a tension in his jaw, and Shiro felt that distance between them growing like a black hole. Instead of getting closer to understanding how he knew Keith and what everything meant he felt as if he were getting further away.

“Can I show you something?” Shiro blurted, a half-formed idea blossoming.

“Sure, what is it?” Keith asked. 

“It’s not really a what. It’s a…well…it’s a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” Keith asked. He brushed the hair from his eyes and kept his gaze on Shiro.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.”

Keith chuckled. “Touche.”

Shiro grinned, excitement building as he thought of the small secret place he’d found by accident during his first week at the Garrison. He’d been on his way back from returning a box of malfunctioning datapads to the tech division as a favor to one of his professors on the fourth floor when a door ajar had caught his eye. Knowing that it was dinner time and no one would miss his absence in the mess hall, he’d taken the stairs up and up until he’d found himself on the roof staring at the stars for the first time since he’d got there. To his immense surprise the next chance he got to slip away a few weeks later the door was still unlocked and had continued to remain unlocked every time.

He tried not to go there too often, terrified of drawing attention to his absence or getting caught in a restricted area. Neither of those fears were ever enough to stop him from going there completely, though. It was his spot. His place to be alone, to think, and to dream. Despite spending night and day working his ass off to get to the stars, attending the Garrison was often devoid of real stars. Everything was textbooks and videos and simulations. Sometimes Shiro needed to get away from it all and look at the constellations to remind himself what he was working so hard for.

He’d never told anyone about it, not even his roommate who had asked more times than he could count where Shiro snuck away to during meal times. He’d never wanted to risk discovery.

But staring at Keith, something told him it was a good risk.

Keith loved the stars too. Keith had actually been to space. Keith would appreciate his spot in a way Shiro had never felt like anyone else might. 

“So where is it?” Keith asked.

“Oh, it’s um…okay, you promise you won’t tell anyone?” Shiro asked. He felt certain he knew the answer but he needed to check anyway.

“Shiro, I would never betray your trust. I promise.” His voice dripped with sincerity and Shiro believed him. He believed him in a way he’d never believed anyone besides his grandparents.

“Okay. Yeah. I mean it’s nothing huge,” he said, inexplicably nervous. He rubbed his hand on his neck, praying he didn’t start to blush. “It’s just this spot I go to sometimes. It’s pretty cool. It’s on the roof and—” but he paused, unable to ignore the look of surprise that passed across Keith’s face. “What?”

“Nothing. I just realized how late it is.”

Shiro frowned, turning to look over his shoulder at the clock in the kitchen—it was barely a quarter after nine.

“It’s not late,” he objected. “We went to bed way later the other night. Besides its better to see this place at night, the stars are better.”

Keith ran a hand over his face and yawned. It was such a fake laugh Shiro would have laughed if he wasn’t too busy being confused by Keith’s abrupt change of mood. Confused and hurt.

“I’m sorry, Shiro. I guess I’m just really tired today. I’m sure your spot is great, but maybe you could show it to me some other time.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. It’s not a big deal,” he said, heart dropping further. “Some other time.”

“Yes. Definitely some other time,” Keith echoed, jumping up from the couch. “I think I’ll turn in for the night, but you’re welcome to stay up and watch a movie or read. Just don’t stay up too late or you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.” 

“Sure,” Shiro agreed, forcing himself to smile. “I’ll probably just head to bed too actually. I’m super tired.”

It was a lie. Shiro wasn’t the least bit tired, and he had no intention of sleeping. In fact he had no intention of staying there at all, but Keith didn’t need to know that. Not yet anyway.

“Oh, that’s a good idea. You’ve had a long few days. You’re probably exhausted.”

“Exhausted. Yeah, that’s me alright,” Shiro mimicked, rising from the couch and following Keith down the hallway. As his mind raced all he could think was that he’d never been less tired in his life.

“Good night, Shiro,” Keith said with a half wave, heading the rest of the way to his room.

Shiro went inside his own room and sat on the bed, though not to sleep. He had no intention of sleeping. Instead he sat there alert and waiting until the sounds of Keith moving around in his room disappeared and every light in the apartment went off—until he was sure Keith was asleep.

Then he tiptoed from his bedroom towards the front door. He put on his shoes as quietly as possible, staring at the keys hanging from the hook by the front door for several long seconds before reaching out and snatching Keith’s keys. Next he reached for his jacket, hand hovering mid-air as his eyes darted back and forth between the red leather jacket Keith had given him and Keith’s jacket.

 _Fuck it,_ he thought. He was already stealing—no _borrowing_ —Keith’s hoverbike, might as well take his jacket too.

With steady hands he pulled it off the hook, sliding his arms through the sleeves and exhaling a shuddering breath. The jacket was cold but smelled of fresh air and dirt and something musky that was all Keith. It filled Shiro with warmth, and he burrowed into it. Keith was just a few inches shorter than him but broader, and the jacket was loose on him. Even though he’d worn Keith’s other jacket it hadn’t felt like _this_. Heat pooled in his stomach as he tightened it around himself, inhaling the scent once more.

When Shiro moved his hand to the front door he hesitated for a few seconds. He knew what he was about to do was stupid. And yet for some reason it seemed like the best idea he’d ever had.

He was going to get Keith’s attention if it killed him.

Which, he thought, as he shut the door behind him, this actually might.

***

The wind whipped through Shiro’s hair as he leaned forward, pressed his chest flat against the front of the hoverbike. Exhilaration coursed through his veins. This was, god, this was so fucking fun.

Shiro had grown up sneaking into the garage to sit on the hoverbike his grandpa kept covered up with a tarp in the corner of the garage. It’d belonged to his dad, and Shiro spent hours waiting until he was big enough to ride for it real instead of sitting on top the same way he’d sit on a couch. His grandpa had promised to teach him for real—out on the open road—once he turned sixteen. But real life had gotten in the way and his grandpa continued to promise _later_. Except later never came. 

It wasn’t until Shiro had come to the Garrison that he’d been able to get on a bike like that again, sort of. It hadn’t technically been a hoverbike, and it’d been grounded, only operating via a simulation. A very realistic simulation but a simulation nonetheless. The Garrison’s simulations were top notch, and Shiro had aced the preliminary flight exams by the third week—a “natural” they’d called him. _Born to fly_ , one of his professors had said with pride in his eyes as Shiro had stepped out of the sim. Granted, the sims were designed with the sole intention of teaching him the basic mechanics of how to operate low-level aircrafts, not tricked out hoverbikes. But the mechanics and schematics were the same. An engine was an engine. If Shiro could theoretically pilot a spacecraft out of the Earth's atmosphere, through an asteroid belt and back home again without issue, he could certainly drive a hoverbike. 

For all of Shiro’s years of studying—hours spent in sims learning the basic mechanics, preparing for worst-case scenarios and fine tuning his response time to potential hazards—nothing could have prepared him for the sense of freedom.

The bike might’ve only been a few feet off the ground, but he was flying. He was _flying_. Not grounded in the library doing theoretical flight reading or stuck in a sim pretending he was really out there and not stuck across the desk from his commanding officer being told his applications for practical experience were being put on hold until the doctors were sure his body could withstand space. 

In all his years of hoping and dreaming he’d rarely allowed himself a moment's pause to think of what it might feel like. And god, did it feel good.

The expectations of the world, the constraints of his disease, and the future he may or may never had faded away until all that existed was the twinkling stars in the sky as the hoverbike soared across the desert. When he closed his eyes, it was easy to pretend that his fingertips were touching stars not sand, and that he wasn’t earthbound.

His sense of freedom was short lived when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a set of headlights trailing him.

Shit.

It was either the Garrison ready to haul his ass back and kick him out or Keith who—well, Shiro didn’t have a clue how Keith might react, and the truth was he wasn’t sure which one he was more afraid of. He needed to go faster, get a little further.

Except he couldn’t.

He couldn’t go faster or further, not when his head was beginning to spin and his grip on the handles was loosening. Suddenly it was as if he were flying through quicksand, his movements slow and reactions stunted. The lights were getting closer, and it was all Shiro could do to keep the bike moving. 

Shiro needed to get away. He wanted to be free.

Instead he was falling, slipping off the side of the hoverbike and crashing into the sandy desert below. The last thing he saw was the moon taunting him behind a halo of clouds before his vision went black.


	5. Chapter 5

“Shiro.”

There was someone calling him. Someone who needed him.

“Come back to me, Shiro.”

Shiro wanted to answer, to tell whoever it was that he was right here. But everything hurt from the top of his ears to the tips of his toes, and his mouth felt as if it’d been sealed together with super glue. Try as he might, he couldn’t open his mouth or his eyes. He wanted to tell whoever it was that he was fine. They sounded so worried, and Shiro didn’t want anyone to worry. 

“Shiro, please.”

Disorientation was his foundation, and Shiro struggled to place the voice. He knew that voice; it was so familiar. He felt certain if he could just see who it was then things would make sense. But the harder he tried to open his eyes to reach whoever it was, the further away the voice sounded.

A hand on his chest, solid and warm. Fingers in his hair, soothing the forelock off his forehead. Shiro wanted to curl into the touch, to seek the warmth of an embrace, but instead he felt like he was falling through the darkness.

“Goddammit, Shiro. Wake up you fucking asshole. Don’t you dare do this to me again.”

Someone was clutching his shirt, his face—tears pooling on his cheek as sobs that weren’t his own wracked his body.

Shiro wanted to move. To scream. To comfort.

Instead he dreamed.

He dreamed of being free.

***

Upon waking the first thing Shiro became aware of was the overwhelmingly sterile smell surrounding him—a hospital room. His nose curled up in distaste at the distinctly familiar smell of his childhood that clung to his nostrils and reminded him of times he did his best to forget. Shiro hated hospitals.

The second thing he noticed as soon as he’d opened his eyes was that the room was dark, bathed in artificial light from a lamp on the bedside table.

The third thing he noticed was that he wasn’t alone.

There was a man in the room with him. A man curled up in the chair at the side of his bed. His legs were drawn up to his chest, a dirty leather jacket thrown over his legs like a blanket and his midnight-black hair spilled over his face obscuring it from view.

He wanted to get a closer look at the man, see if he could figure out where exactly he was—aside from being in a hospital, which wasn’t much to go on—or how he got there. The last thing he remembered was, well, he couldn’t quite remember the last thing he remembered. He had a vague memory of attending a safety briefing last week, but he couldn’t recall leaving the meeting or going home. He couldn’t remember anything.

He sat up, wincing at the stiffness in his joints.

The man in the chair shot up as if he’d been hurt, the jacket falling to the floor and his eyes wild and alert as they settled on Shiro.

“You’re awake. God are you okay? How do you feel? Does anything hurt?”

“Nothing hurts,” Shiro answered slowly. Truthfully nothing hurt because he couldn’t feel anything, but that seemed like an answer to cause alarm, not settle worry—and this man definitely sounded worried—so he kept that extra bit of information to himself.

“That’s good. Okay, yeah. Good. I wasn’t sure because god—it was a little sketchy for a bit but you’re okay now and that’s all that matters.” The man sighed, running a hand through his hair and pushing it off his face as he sidestepped closer to Shiro, bringing him directly into the flood of light from his lamp. It gave Shiro a chance to look at him, really look at him. He had the most distinct features Shiro had ever seen—a sharp jaw and eyes cut out of starlight. He had features Shiro would recognize anywhere, even in the haze that was his current confused brain.

“Keith.”

Keith’s sharp inhale was audible, and his entire body sagged as he fell against the side of Shiro’s hospital bed. Keith’s hand hovered mid-air, and for a fleeting moment Shiro thought Keith was going to touch him, but then he dropped his hand to his side. 

“You remember me.” His voice was full of unmistakable disbelief.

“I thought I made you up,” Shiro whispered, pushing himself up into a sitting position to get a better look at him. The last time he’d seen Keith had been, god—it’d been so long ago. The memories were hazy, almost as if he’d dreamed them all. Keith seemed viscerally real standing there in front of him and like something out of a daydream all at one. He was almost afraid to ask, and yet he needed to, needing to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming. “Are you real?”

“I’m very real,” Keith laughed.

“And very pretty,” Shiro added, then snapped his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to say that. At least not out loud. It was true, though. Keith was as pretty as Shiro remembered from his childhood and teenage years. Images flashed through Shiro’s mind of Keith, but the harder he tried to focus on his features, or the memories themselves, the harder it was to remember anything at all.

Keith snorted, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. “You’re delirious and high on painkillers.”

“Why am I on painkillers?” Shiro asked, noticing for the IV in his hand for the first time. He frowned, peeling back the edge of tape that held the needle to try and get a better look.

“I don’t think you should do that,” Keith told him, ignoring Shiro’s question as he gently pushed Shiro’s fingers away from the tape. He smoothed the medical tape back down, fingertips brushing across the top of Shiro’s hand. Shiro’s head spun, though from the change in his position of Keith’s proximity he couldn’t be sure.

“Whatever you say,” Shiro responded.

“Right, you must be even more out of it than I thought if you’re this compliant,” Keith observed. He lifted his hand from Shiro’s mattress and reached out, brushing back the hair from his face and pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. “No fever.”

“You’re so pretty,” Shiro said again, almost as if his brain was incapable of any other thought. There were certainly more pressing ones. Like how he’d ended up in a hospital or how Keith was here after so many years away. But nothing seemed to matter except staring at Keith’s pretty eyes and pretty lips and pretty smile.

Keith dropped his hand. If Shiro wasn’t mistaken, Keith was blushing.

“I should get a doctor. Let them know you’re finally awake. You had everyone really worried there for a little bit. Try to go a little longer before almost dying next time, yeah?” Keith’s voice caught, an unnatural tremble in the words.

“I’m fine.” He insisted. He didn’t remember almost dying.

Keith huffed out a laugh, rubbing the side of his face. He looked so tired. “Shiro, you fell off a moving hoverbike. You’re not fine.”

Shiro looked down at himself, noticing for the first time the bruises on his arms. He pushed off the sheet to look at his bare legs peeking out from the too small hospital gown. They too were dotted with similar bruises but no cuts and, so far as Shiro could tell, no broken bones either. He wiggled his fingers and toes, just to be sure he could, then looked up at Keith. “I feel fine.”

The moment he said it the weird fuzzy feeling in his head multiplied and his body rocked, nearly falling sideways. For one fleeting moment Shiro thought he might just tip out of his bed and fall onto the floor, but as his body slipped sideways he found his head crashing into the warmth of Keith’s chest.

“Whoa, easy there big boy.”

Shiro grunted out an unintelligible response, his brain full of static like a communication device on the wrong channel. Keith’s chest was solid and warm, his heartbeat loud and soothing against the erratic thundering of his own muddled thoughts. Nothing made much sense except Keith.

Keith’s presence. Keith’s warmth.

“You smell good,” Shiro mumbled, burrowing his face into Keith’s shirt. The smell of the hospital faded away if he focused on the way Keith’s shirt smelled of fresh air and laundry soap. It was familiar in a way that made Shiro’s heart race faster and his eyes prickle with moisture.

“Just close your eyes, Shiro. Rest.”

Shiro had so many questions. There was so much he wanted to ask, so many things that didn’t make sense as new memories flooded into his brain. But he was so sleepy and he couldn’t make the thoughts in his brain come out as words so instead he obeyed, closing his eyes and letting his right arm loop around Keith.

Keith let out a small noise of surprise before his fingers found their way into Shiro’s hair—fingertips dragging across his scalp in soothing ministrations that had his worries fading away as rapidly as his consciousness. He focused on the steady thud of Keith’s heartbeat as he drifted off to sleep

There was so much Shiro didn’t understand. But here and now he was safe.

***

“Glad to see you awake, Mr. Shirogane,” the doctor said as she stepped into the room. She turned towards Keith—leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed—and smiled. “And you, Mr. Kogane. You’re looking better as well.”

Keith tilted his face to the ground, mumbling something Shiro couldn’t hear. The doctor nodded, touching him on the shoulder before crossing the room to stand beside Shiro.

“I’d like a word alone with Mr. Shirogane please,” she said to the nurse. “I can finish his chart.”

“Of course,” the nurse agreed, immediately hanging Shiro’s chart at the end of the bed before leaving.

“I’ll can step right outside the door if you’d like some privacy,” Keith offered.

“No, you can stay,” Shiro answered without hesitation. Logically he should want some. He hated other people knowing his personal business, especially when it involved his medical history. He found himself inexplicably calmed by Keith’s presence though, and the idea of being deprived of it was distasteful to say the least.

There’d been no shortage of people in and out of his room since he’d awoken the second time a few hours before—doctors too busy to talk to him by name, nurses who whispered to each other in hushed voices, and Garrison personnel who came in to ask what he could remember before leaving without a word. There’d been nonstop talking, and yet no one had really said anything. At least not to Shiro. Through it all Keith had remained, a permanent feature in the corner. 

Keith’s presence now made the dread building in the pit of his stomach lessen, at least enough where he could force on a polite smile as the doctor sat in the chair beside his bed. When she smiled, Shiro tugged his blanket higher—a sense of anxiety unexpectedly building.

“There’s no need to worry, Mr. Shirogane. I’m not here to give you any bad news.”

“If you don’t want me to worry you could start by calling me Shiro, please.” He smoothed his hands over the blanket, watching the way the harsh hospital lighting glinted off his bracelets. It did nothing to calm his unease.

“Alright, Shiro. You can call me Amanda. I’d like to ask you how you’re feeling.”

“My blood pressure has stabilized, the CAT scan showed normal brain function, and though there was some superficial bruising there was no internal damage or broken bones. So I’d say all things considered I’m quite lucky.”

“Yes, I see all of that in your chart, including the fact that you’re now twenty-one years old as well,” Amanda said, tapping the datapad in her lap and giving Shiro a pointed look. He didn’t know what his age had to do with anything, but he let it go since there were more pressing issues. “What I want to know is how you feel, Shiro.”

Shiro startled. Of all the questions he’d expected when she’d walked into the room, that hadn’t been one of them.

“I’m…um, well,” he paused. Lying to such a direct question felt wrong. “A little tired and confused but fine.”

She nodded, tapping at the datapad for a few seconds before turning her gaze back on Shiro. “Thank you for your honesty, Shiro. We’ve never had a case quite like yours. The more information we can collect the better.”

“What exactly is a case like me?” he asked. He’d been holding the question in for hours—letting it rest on the tip of his tongue waiting for the right time. 

“That, unfortunately, is a very complicated answer which I’m not sure I can give you,” she said. She swiped down on the datapad, turning it off and setting it onto the empty chair beside her. “What’s important is that you’re alive and safe.”

Shiro did his best not to grimace. People kept saying things like that, and all it did was make him feel worse, not better.

“When can I be discharged?” he asked, cutting right to the point.

“Technically I could discharge you now. I’d just need to sign off on the paperwork, but otherwise there’s no reason for you to stay here. Though I must strongly advise you to rest. You were very lucky, Shiro, but the body can only endure so much. Especially given your current condition.”

Unconsciously Shiro wrapped his fingers around his wrist, fingers sliding between the metal bracelet and his pulse point. He took a few steadying breaths, counting his pulse and reminding himself to remain calm. The last thing he needed was someone else reminding him of his condition. As if he wasn’t aware of it every moment of every day. As if there was ever a moment he was allowed to forget.

“You don’t need to worry. I’ll make sure he rests.” It was the first thing Keith had said since offering to leave, and Shiro nearly jumped at the sound of his voice.

“That’s good to hear.” She turned her head, eyes on Keith. “Hopefully there won’t be any more…incidents.”

Keith stiffened. “There won’t.”

Shiro very much wanted to know what they were talking about, but he knew there was no point in asking. Not then anyway.

Amanda hummed to herself, rising from the chair. “I hope not, Mr. Kogane. The only one who will suffer if there is will be Shiro.”

Keith looked as if he wanted to say something else, but he held his tongue, forcing a smile on his face as his fingers dug into his forearm hard enough to turn the skin white. It wasn’t until she’d left the room—door clicking shut behind her—that Keith relaxed.

“Well, that was fun,” Shiro said, when it became clear Keith wasn’t going to speak first.

Keith blinked, nose wrinkling up before he barked out a laugh. “That’s not the word I would use.”

“Me either to be honest.” Shiro found his lips turning up at the corner. Despite everything that had happened, it was surprisingly easy to smile when he talked to Keith.

Keith pushed off the wall, moving to stand beside Shiro’s bed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the machine monitoring his heart rate spike and he prayed that Keith hadn’t noticed it.

“How are you feeling, really?”

Shiro puffed up his cheeks then blew out a breath. “Like shit.”

“Figured as much, you’re a pretty horrible liar.”

Shiro gaped. “I am not.”

At that Keith smiled. “You really, really are.”

“How would you know?” Shiro shot back, sharper than he’d intended though not unkindly.

Keith’s smile faded, a look Shiro couldn’t decipher spreading across his face. “You’d be surprised what I know.”

Shiro swallowed, fiddling with the blanket in his lap but maintaining eye contact with Keith. “Will you tell me? What you know?”

Keith hesitated, and Shiro felt certain he’d pushed too much, asked for too much. But then Keith gave a quick nod of his head.

“Yes.”

***

“Do you need anything else?” Keith asked. He hovered near the foot of the couch, rubbing his hands together as his eyes darted across Shiro.

“No,” Shiro answered.

“Maybe you need another blanket. It’s a little cold tonight. I could just head out and see if there are any extra blankets in the store room. I’m sure I could—”

“Keith, I’m fine,” Shiro interrupted. He eyed the empty space at the end of the couch hoping his meaning was clear.

Keith exhaled, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “You want some coffee or um, you know, anything?”

Shiro was tempted to laugh, eyeing the coffee table where Keith had already got him a cup of hot cocoa and a strong cup of tea and for some reason two glasses of water. He was pretty sure he was set on beverages for the foreseeable future.

“No, thank you.”

“Another pillow?”

Shiro shook his head, resting it back against the mountain of pillows Keith had built on his sofa for Shiro despite his insistence that he didn’t need anything. Truthfully he was a lot more comfortable now than when he’d first sat down, but the pillows under his legs and lining the floor were possibly a little excessive. At first he thought it was just a Keith thing. Now he was starting to suspect Keith was doing anything he could to avoid having a conversation with Shiro.

“So you’re good then?” Keith questioned, resting his palms on the arm of the couch and leaning his weight against it. His eyes roamed over Shiro as if scanning for a need he could fill. It was borderline ridiculous and sweet enough that it made Shiro’s chest feel funny. He wasn’t used to people fussing over him, not like this.

It’d been years since his grandparents had died, since anyone had taken care of him like this. Then again, that was possibly also Shiro’s fault for never letting anyone take care of him. He didn’t have a single good reason why he was letting Keith, except that it felt nice. It felt really nice.

But Shiro was reaching even his own limit for being fussed over by a pretty man with a sweet voice. He had enough blankets and pillows and drinks to get him through an alien invasion. All he wanted now was to talk—he wanted answers. He needed answers.

“I’m good.”

“And you promise you’ll tell me if you hurt. If you change your mind about the pain medicine I can call the doctor and get them to refill the prescription. Or if you get dizzy or nauseous let me know because the doctors might’ve been wrong about you not having a concussion and—”

“Keith,” Shiro interrupted. “I’m fine. I promise.”

“Alright. Sorry. You just—you don’t know what it was like.”

“Then tell me.”

Keith sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he sat on the arm of the couch. “I could see you. I was so close. Just a quarter mile or so behind you. Then your bike started to slow down and I thought it was because you’d realized I’d found you. I even smiled. I smiled! And then…then everything went wrong. I was close enough to see the moment you swayed, when your body slipped sideways and crashed into the ground but it felt like it took me forever to get to you. I watched you fall and I couldn’t catch you. I was close enough to see you but too far away to get to you in time.” Keith clenched his hands into fists, shaking his head. When he spoke there was a tremble in his voice that made Shiro’s heart ache. He might not have understood the context, but Shiro knew the pain of regret when he heard it. “I couldn’t save you, Shiro.”

“It was just a little hoverbike accident, Keith. I’m okay.” The truth was he still hurt, more than he was letting on to Keith or the doctors. But he preferred the pain to the wooziness the medication they’d tried to send him away with would cause. Besides it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Shiro was used to pain.

“This time. This time you’re okay but what if—”

“Nothings gonna happen to me.” Especially not cocooned in pillows on the couch like an over-sized marshmallow, but he wisely left that part off.

Keith made a high-pitched noise, hands clenching in his lap. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

“What could possibly happen to me, Keith?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but it had the opposite effect as he’d intended.

“You have no idea, Shiro.”

Shiro felt certain that once again he was missing something important. Not that he didn’t appreciate Keith’s concern over his accident, but his reaction was more intense than Shiro felt a few tiny scratches and bruises really warranted. 

“It’s not like I almost died or anything.”

This proved to be the wrong thing to say. Keith leapt from the couch and began to pace back and forth at the end of the sofa. Shiro wanted desperately to say something but remained silent, having no idea what to say and unsure if he might make things worse or do something that might reverse Keith’s decision to talk to him. 

After a long minute Keith abruptly stopped pacing and moved to the couch, dropping down into the small bit at the end by Shiro’s feet.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Shiro told him. 

“I feel like I do. Fuck, there’s just…so much.” He yanked at his hair and the turmoil on his face was almost painful. “There’s just so much you don’t know, and I don’t even know where to start.”

“The beginning is usually a good spot.”

Keith stopped pacing, cocking his head and giving Shiro a searching look. “Fuck, you’re exactly the same.”

“I’m not sure if I should say thank you or I’m sorry,” Shiro confessed.

“Me either.”

Shiro choked out a laugh. It was that or want to cry, and laughter was a hell of a lot easier.

“You’re just…god there’s no one else like you, Shiro. No one. In any universe.”

“You say that like you can be sure,” Shiro laughed. Keith didn’t laugh with him. It was only then that he realized Keith wasn’t being facetious. 

“I am sure.” Keith’s voice was full of so much conviction Shiro felt certain Keith was serious, even if he didn’t understand it. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

“Who are you?” Shiro asked, twisting his hands in his lap.

Keith choked out a sob. “Please don’t tell me you forgot my name.”

“I…no. Shit. No. I know who you are. You’re Keith. Keith Kogane. You saved me in the desert. And I…I met you. Before. That wasn’t a dream right?” Keith shook his head and something began to unfurl in Shiro’s chest—something desperate and fragile. “I didn’t dream that. I was a kid and I was alone and you were there. Until you weren’t. It was like I was crazy. I remember you but I don’t remember knowing you and none of it makes any sense. Then I was sixteen and you were there again and nothing made sense except you and I don’t know why. Who are you?”

All the fight seemed to go out of Keith as he dropped back against the couch, eyes on Shiro. “I’m just me.”

Whatever Keith was, Shiro felt certain there was nothing _just_ about it. Keith was special. Shiro couldn’t explain why he was so sure of it since he only had a handful of memories of Keith that kept slipping through his fingers like water when he thought about them too long, but he was. He was more sure of it than anything at that moment.

“I know you.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. “When you were a kid and a teenager we met.”

“No. I know you.” Shiro waited for Keith to deny it, but he didn’t.

He didn’t deny it.

“Are you from the future?” Shiro asked. At that point it seemed as plausible as anything else, which was probably saying something about his mental state.

“Not exactly,” Keith breathed.

“Right,” Shiro said, leaning forward. “That’s exactly what a time traveler would say.”

“Well, there’s this astrophysicist who once joked we’re all time travelers just—”

“One second by one second,” Shiro finished quietly. “You know Carl Sagan.”

“I do. I know they’re practically antiques, but my best friend introduced me to them. He loved them, and he always said that everything in life changes except the stars.”

“He sounds smart,” Shiro said, not entirely sure where the conversation was going but sensing it was going somewhere.

“He was. He is,” Keith corrected. “You always were.”

“I—wait, what?” Shiro blurted, heart rattling in his chest. He felt as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to tip off the edge—unsure if he was about to crash and burn or soar. He had to have misunderstood. Keith couldn’t mean what he thought he meant.

“You were right before. We do know each other and not just from the last few days.”

“Wait, no,” Shiro mumbled, more confused than ever. “What do you mean days? I haven’t seen you in years.”

“This is going to sound crazy. I know it is. And to be honest the doctors and most of the Garrison higher ups don’t want me to tell you. But I think you deserve to know. So just..hear me out alright?” Keith licked his lips, rubbing his hands across his knees. 

“I mean, I’d rather think you were crazy than me,” Shiro joked, trying for a smile.

Keith’s lips quirked up in the corner. “Okay. Right. So the thing is, I’m not from the future. Not really. Or if I am you are too.” At Shiro’s blank stare Keith sighed, rubbing his hands across his face.” Sorry I’m not explaining this very well. You’re from the past. Sort of. It’s…hard to explain but well—well, you’re twenty-seven, Shiro.”

Shiro blinked. “No, I’m twenty.”

Keith reached out a hand, resting his hand on top of Shiro’s ankle. The small bit of contact was unexpectedly grounding, and Shiro focused on the warmth of Keith’s fingers against his exposed ankle bone and not the fact that he was ninety percent sure either Keith or Shiro was losing his mind right now.

“I told you it was going to sound crazy. You’re twenty-seven, Shiro. I’ve known you for…god so long. My best friend, the one who introduced me to Carl Sagan, that’s you. You’re my best friend, Shiro. You’re—” he broke off, puffing up his cheeks with air as if holding back something else he wanted to say. Then he blew the air out, a tremble in his voice when he spoke again. “You’re my best friend.”

“I don’t understand,” Shiro whispered.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m not explaining this very well. There’s no crash course in how to explain to the most important person in your life they’ve been accidentally de-aged by a magical alien flower and—”

“Aliens,” Shiro croaked, latching on to that one word.

Keith cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Aliens. That’s something that exists too.”

“De-aged by a magical alien flower,” Shiro repeated. The words sounded just as insane when he said them out loud himself. And yet, he believed him. He believed Keith. Keith who was sitting there looking at Shiro as if he were the most important person in the world—as if Shiro mattered to him. Shiro wasn’t sure if he believed Keith because it was the right thing to do or because he wanted to believe him, wasn’t sure he cared which it was.

“Trust me, it wasn’t any less confusing when it happened either.”

Shiro found that hard to believe since he was pretty damn confused right now, but he put on a smile, which proved to be the right thing to do because the tension in Keith’s body dissipated immediately. Keith’s fingers wrapped around Shiro’s ankle, squeezing lightly as he gifted Shiro a smile in return.

Shiro was glad he was already sitting down because the sight of Keith’s small, private smile made his head spun. It was like a punch to the gut, and all the air left Shiro’s lungs. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done to deserve someone like Keith looking at him like that, but he hoped this future version of him was worth it.

As much as Shiro wanted to know more—wanted to know everything—he felt as if Keith had been pushed enough for now. There was something fragile in the way Keith was smiling at him, almost as if it cost him something. 

_Patience yields focus_ , he reminded himself—Jiji’s words a comfort in the back of his mind. 

He could get the rest of his answers later. Shiro could be patient. As much as Shiro wanted more clarification and more answers, something deep in his gut was telling him to trust Keith. Logically he knew that it made no sense, but Shiro had always put more stock in gut feelings over logic anyway, and every single bone in his body was screaming to trust Keith.

“Hey, Keith,” Shiro uttered, decision made. “I could really go for that cup of coffee now.”

This time Keith’s smile was easy as he latched on to the distraction, leaping from the couch.

“Coffee,” he repeated, surprise and relief evident in his voice. “I can definitely do coffee.”

 _Yeah,_ Shiro thought—hiding a smile of his own as Keith rose from the couch— _he could be patient._

***

“So, aliens,” Shiro said for what felt like the tenth time. He wrapped his hands around his mug of coffee, blowing on the steam and relishing in its warmth.

“Yeah, aliens,” Keith laughed. He was more at ease this morning. Apparently a night of rest and several cups of coffee had rid Keith of whatever it was that had plagued him before. His good mood was contagious, and it was hard for Shiro to feel worried or confused when something about Keith just made him feel, well—happy.

“I’m not sure I can get used to that. Which is weird because I’ve spent my entire life studying space and objectively I’ve always felt like it was insane to think humans were the only life in the entire universe. And yet, aliens. I wonder if I’ll ever meet them myself.”

Keith’s mouth tightened at the corners, just a bit—something haunting behind his eyes there and gone before Shiro could try to make sense of it.

“Maybe you’ve met one and you don’t even know,” he said, hiding behind his coffee.

“Yeah, maybe I’m having coffee with an alien right now and don’t even know it,” Shiro laughed, surprised when Keith choked on his coffee.

Shiro ducked his head and grinned, inordinately pleased with himself for the joke.

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up,” Keith snorted, wiping his mouth on a napkin before blotting up the coffee on the table in front of him. 

“No really though, do you think…or well you must know…do I really get there? To space?” Shiro asked. He’d been skirting the question all morning, desperate to ask but afraid of the answer. Now that he’d said it, though, there was no taking it back.

Keith stilled, eyes on the table. “You get there, Shiro.”

Shiro breathed through his nose, blinking away the moisture at the corners of his eyes. Somehow, despite everything he was working for and all of the small flight tests the Garrison had let him do recently, it was still a surprise to hear. The thing he’d wanted his entire life was going to happen.

Shiro was going to see the stars.

“When? How? Do I make it back okay?” he asked in a rush, unable to stop himself.

“I uh…I don’t think it's a good idea to tell you too much about the future. I’ve talked to Pidge and Hunk and they’re not sure how telling you about the future might affect things.”

Pidge and Hunk. Those were the names of the people in the photo Keith had shown him last night. Friends, he’d said. Their friends.

“Oh yeah, of course. Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Hey, no. It’s okay, Shiro. If I were you I would’ve asked. I would’ve asked a lot more than you probably. I never was as good at being patient or knowing when to keep my mouth shut. It makes sense you’re curious and I wish I could tell you but—”

“No, I get it. It’s okay,” Shiro assured him. And he did get it. At least as much as anyone could get what was happening to Shiro right now.

“I know it’s one of your dreams, Shiro. Just…know you make it okay. Whatever else happens in the future, you made it. You did that.”

Shiro blew out a breath, watching the way the steam from his coffee swirled in front of him. “It’s my only dream.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “What about after? I mean surely there are things you want to do after.”

 _After_. Shiro’s chest tightened. He barely let himself think about space. After was too much to hope for.

“I dunno.”

Keith didn’t seem to want to accept that answer.

“Oh come on, there’s gotta be something else. Maybe teaching at the Garrison? Rising in the ranks of command until you’re Admiral?” He was smiling, and Shiro found it easy to return the gesture, even if his insides felt twisted up.

“Sounds a bit boring to be honest.”

“Boring,” Keith echoed.

Shiro shrugged. “I mean that sounds cool and all but imagine being stuck here forever? I just—” he paused, feeling painfully exposed but unable to stop the flood of words, “I just wanna fly you know? I want to fly and I dunno maybe…maybe.” He stopped, unable to finish that thought.

“Maybe?” Keith queried. He nudged Shiro’s knee beneath the table. “Maybe…something else like falling in love? Maybe something like starting a family?”

Shiro didn’t know what to say to that so he lifted his coffee, barely tasting it as he swallowed. When he set the cup down Keith was still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“It’s easier not to think that far ahead. One thing at a time you know.”

“Shiro.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Shiro started, aware of the way Keith’s eyes had been lingering on the medical bracelets on his wrists all morning. “I mean no one's gonna want to start a family with someone who will eventually become a burden.”

He laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. Keith didn’t laugh with him.

“You’re not a burden, Shiro. You never have been and you never will be.” Keith said it as if there could be no argument, and Shiro didn’t want to argue with him anyway, even if he didn’t believe him. For now he let the knowledge that someone else believed that buffer the sting of knowing some things would always be out of reach no matter how far he reached.

Shiro wasn’t going to be a burden to anyone. Ever. 

He coughed, rubbing a hand on his cheek before lifting his eyes to stare at Keith.

“So tell me more about these aliens,” Shiro said. “Are they all green and wrinkly?”

Keith took the change in subject in stride, eyes crinkling at the corner as he smiled at Shiro. Once again the negative emotions were siphoned away in Keith’s presence.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

***

Keith was easy to talk to.

Too easy.

Minutes turned to hours and hours turned to days and the more Shiro understood the less he felt like he knew.

Being around Keith was easy in a way that terrified Shiro more than the idea of aliens and impossible plants that could alter a humans atoms and actually de-age them. It scared him more than all the things Keith had told him, and even more than the one he hadn’t.

Shiro was stuck somewhere between the past he couldn’t recall and the future he barely knew how to believe in, and Keith was at the center of everything was.

Keith.

***

“What are you doing?” Keith asked.

Shiro startled, pausing mid push-up. He lifted his gaze from the floor, shaking the hair from his eyes to see Keith standing in the hallway looking sleep ruffled and confused. He was wearing a pair of oversized pajama pants that hung over his bare feet and a plain red t-shirt, and his hair was an absolute mess. The light from his bedroom spilling into the hallway illuminated the pillow lines on his cheek, and he was the most beautiful thing Shiro had ever seen.

“Nothing,” he answered, trying to rid himself of his previous thoughts. That was dangerous territory. Too dangerous.

Keith blinked, adorably bewildered. “You were in an accident less than forty-eight hours ago. You should be resting, not doing push-ups in the middle of the night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Shiro responded, resuming his push-ups.

He lifted his left hand and wound it around his back, switching to one handed push-ups. Not that he was showing off. He just wanted to change it up was all. He’d been at it for half an hour already, and it was too easy. He just needed the extra challenge. 

“You don’t even know how to rest do you?” Keith muttered. It didn’t sound like a question, so Shiro didn’t answer. The idea of being known so well by someone he barely knew was confusing enough as it was. He tried not to think about it too hard when he could avoid it. Except the only way to avoid thinking was to stay busy, and it was hard to stay busy when you were ordered to rest and stuck inside a small two-bedroom apartment with someone whose very existence set the axis of your entire world spinning.

“I’m sorry if I woke you,” Shiro told him, switching to his left arm. He didn’t let his gaze linger on Keith even though he desperately wanted to.

“It’s fine. I wasn’t sleeping either,” Keith said, feet shuffling into Shiro’s line of sight.

Shiro didn’t let himself pause to wonder why Keith was staying. At least not until a few seconds later when Keith squatted down until his face was nearly level with Shiro’s. He did two more push-ups before it was clear Keith was waiting for Shiro to make the next move. Shiro’s curiosity was strong enough that he lifted his head to see Keith watching him with what almost looked like amusement.

“Hey,” Shiro whispered, arms quivering with a welcome exhaustion as he kept his body in a perfect plank.

“Hey yourself,” Keith answered, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Shiro wanted to know what it might take to turn it into a full smile—wondered if future him had ever been the cause of Keith’s smiles. 

“What exactly are we doing?” Shiro asked, unused to the unflinching intensity of Keith’s gaze.

“I’m waiting for you to stop showing off so I can take you somewhere,” Keith answered.

Shiro felt his body flush hot, cheeks turning red. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m not showing off.”

“Sure.” Keith sucked his lips between his teeth looking very much like he was trying not to laugh. 

“Oh for—just…shut up,” Shiro muttered, finally dropping out of the plank and shaking out his arms. “Just shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything else,” Keith laughed, apparently giving up all pretenses of not being amused on Shiro’s behalf.

Shiro was so embarrassed he wanted to die, but beneath that was an undeniable swell of pleasure at being the one to have been the cause of the bubble of laughter erupting from Keith’s chest. Laughter looked good on him. 

Everything looked good on him.

Just for good measure Shiro shot Keith his most exaggerated pout, sitting back on his heels and hoping if he looked pathetic enough Keith might take pity on him.

“God, that stupid pout. Fuck you,” Keith laughed, shaking his head. “You know there was a time when I didn’t think you knew what it did to people but I’ve changed my mind. You know. You so know, you insufferable asshole.”

Shiro’s cheeks warmed, and he ducked his head. “So uh…where did you wanna take me?” 

There was probably no point in even asking since it didn’t matter what Keith had in mind. He knew he was going to say yes regardless. That was another thing that terrified him—how desperately he wanted to spend every moment with Keith. To please Keith—to make him smile. To see him happy. 

“Guess you’ll have to get dressed and find out, huh?”

“I guess so,” Shiro agreed.

“Good. Be ready in ten minutes.”

***

“You know when you said you were gonna show me something this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Shiro whispered, voice echoing in the tiny crawl space despite his best attempts to keep his voice down. The last thing they needed was to get caught.

“What, you weren’t daydreaming about spending the early morning hours staring at my ass?” Keith laughed, apparently not as concerned with staying quiet as Shiro was. He continued to shuffle along in front of Shiro down the opening.

“Not exactly,” he choked out, eyes riveted to the swell of Keith’s jean clad ass.

The last thing Shiro had expected was for Keith to take him out of his apartment and straight into a supply closet two hallways over and then into the vent system. Although with Keith in front of him taking the lead on this secret adventure, he did have a perfect view of Keith’s pert behind. Which was, well—inconvenient thought fodder while on his hands and knees behind him. He was only glad Keith couldn’t see his face or his dick right now since both of them would’ve betrayed him.

“It’s just a little further,” Keith announced, unaware of Shiro’s sexual and emotional turmoil.

Shiro made a noise of disbelief. Keith had said that at least three times already, and they’d been at this for what felt like forever but was probably only twenty minutes.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Keith asked, jeans making a funny scratching noise on the metal beneath them as he crawled. “I’m telling you we’re almost there. It was just…yeah, okay, it was further than I thought, but I can hear the fans which means we’re near the central air conditioning units, which means we’re close.”

“Close to what?” Shiro asked.

“You’ll see. You know for someone so patient, you can be incredibly impatient sometimes.”

Shiro didn’t say anything to that. Keith wasn’t wrong, he just wasn’t used to anyone else knowing him so well. 

True to his word, in no time at all they had apparently reached their destination. Shiro paused behind Keith, having finally given up on trying to avert his eyes and relishing in the ability to stare at Keith’s ass as he fiddled with the metal lock on the latch. 

“Got it,” he crowed, artificial light flooding the darkness of the crawl space as the latch flew open. Before Shiro could ask if Keith needed help—not that he had any idea what help he could offer from behind—Keith dove out of the crawl space.

Shiro shuffled forward, more than ready to be out of the tiny space and stretch his arms and legs. He popped his head out and found Keith grinning at him from a few feet below looking pleased with himself. Of course he’d landed like some kind of acrobat, not a hair out of place and on his feet.

“Nice of you to finally join me, slow poke.”

“I’m not slow, I was just in the back,” Shiro grumbled, attempting to exit the small latched door as gracefully as possible—or at least with as much grace as Keith. Unfortunately for him that turned out to be not much grace at all, because the second he wrapped his fingers around the edge of the vent and tipped forward his wrists ached—a bone-deep pain making itself known for the last half hour of strange pressure—and he lost his grip, tumbling down looking more like a flailing octopus that a suave ninja like he’d hoped. He closed his eyes and prepared for the inevitable impact, but instead of crashing into the hard cement floor his body was cradled against a warm body and wrapped up in strong arms.

With a gasp of surprise he opened his eyes and saw the endless blue of Keith’s staring back at him. 

Keith. Keith had caught him.

Keith had saved him again. Granted the only thing Shiro was in danger of was a bruised ass and an even more bruised ego, but Keith had saved him from both. Shiro wanted to thank Keith. Unfortunately that wasn’t exactly what came out of his mouth.

“You’re strong,” he said, snapping his mouth shut when he realized his tongue was practically hanging out.

Keith grinned—a smile full of mirth. “Yeah, strong enough.”

The images that sentence conjured were too much for Shiro who grunted something unintelligible as he kicked his feet to the ground. Keith’s cheeks pinked as Shiro took a step sideways, and Shiro cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at Keith. Instead his eyes roamed over the stairway they were in and the closed door to his right when he realized the chip in the door was familiar. Very familiar.

“Oh. I know where we are,” Shiro whispered, reaching for the doorknob. He turned to stare at Keith, touched and confused. “So then I guess I did eventually show you this place, huh? Future me I mean.”

Shiro wrapped his fingers around the handle but didn’t turn it, not yet.

“You showed me a long, long time ago.” Keith chewed on the inside of his cheek for a long moment before he spoke again. “The normal aged you I mean. But before, when you wanted to bring me..when you were sixteen, I mean. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell you that another you had already shown me and it was, god it was—” Keith broke off look frustrated.

“I think I understand,” Shiro said.

Keith blew out a breath and smiled. “You always understand me.”

Something about Keith’s words felt like a confession, and Shiro felt compelled to offer one of his own.

“You know I didn’t think I’d ever show this place to anyone,” Shiro confessed, gripping the handle together. It’d been his private place—his oasis amongst the stress and pressure of Garrison life—for longer than he could remember. “You must be special.”

“You certainly thought so. I’m not sure the rest of the world agreed but—” Keith trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. “Anyway I know how much this place means to you. Thought maybe you could use a break from you know…being inside.”

Shiro’s chest was filled with that strange sensation from before again—almost as if his heart was going to flutter right out of his body. He had no idea what to do with the knowledge that one day there would be someone out there who knew him so well. Or already was someone. It hurt Shiro’s brain to think too hard about whether he was from the past or Keith was from the future or something even more confusing in between. It hurt even more to think about the reality that one day Keith would be his best friend but that right now Shiro was just a placeholder for another version of himself that he privately feared he might never be. 

The fact that Keith knew him—knew his future—meant Shiro was still there. Still alive. But Keith was tight-lipped with details about Shiro’s health or future endeavors. Shiro’d asked a few times and gotten a long spiel about fears of messing with the space time continuum and worrying that certain memories that might be hard to deal with could irrevocably alter whatever it was that had affected Shiro before. Logically Shiro knew Keith had great reasons, but understanding it didn’t mean Shiro had to like it.

Keith knew him. Seemed to know everything about him. It should’ve been grounding, yet Shiro felt decidedly off center—as if he was missing a piece of the puzzle. Except the puzzle wasn’t a game, it was his life.

His life was in pieces, and Shiro couldn’t even find his borders.

“Are you alright?” Keith asked, hand at Shiro’s lower back. 

“Yeah, fine,” Shiro answered, trying to rid himself of the mess of thoughts. “One question though, why didn’t we just use the back hallways to get here?”

“Not as much fun,” Keith said, shooting Shiro a wink before laying his hand over Shiro’s and helping him open the door.

Just as quickly as Keith’s hand had covered his own it was removed as they moved through the doorway and out into Shiro’s favorite place in the entire Garrison.

The moment Shiro stepped out onto the rooftop—the desert landscape spread out before him and the stars twinkling above—everything inside of him quieted. It was as if the mess in his head, as tumultuous as a solar flare, came to a standstill. He didn’t know how long he stood there, head turned up to the sky staring, before he remembered he wasn’t alone. 

“Sorry, it’s just…it’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Keith agreed, eyes on Shiro.

 _The stars weren’t the only thing that was beautiful_ , Shiro thought. Standing there in the starlight Keith looked like something out of a dream. Except Shiro already had a dream, and Keith might’ve been standing right beside him, but he felt as far away as the stars.

“Do you come here a lot?” Shiro asked, desperate to think about anything besides himself and the things he shouldn’t want.

“Sometimes. When you first showed me you told me to think of it as mine too, but it isn’t quite the same without you. I like it better when we come out here together. There’s not always time for that now but—” He shrugged, smiling at Shiro and making it impossible for Shiro to push away the one question burning in his mind—what other things did he share with Keith?

“You’re not going to get in trouble for bringing me out here are you?” Shiro asked, hoping his abrupt change of subject wasn’t too suspect. “I know they made it pretty clear that it was in everyone’s best interests if I stayed inside your apartment.”

“Pfft,” Keith waved a hand through the air dismissively, “they mean well but they’re all worried about things they can find on your charts and security protocol and bureaucracy. They don’t know what’s best for you.”

There it was again, that insinuation that Keith knew Shiro better than anyone else.

“But you do?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. Somehow it felt like the most dangerous question he’d ever asked. 

Keith’s inhale was audible as he cocked his head to the side, bits of fringe falling into his eyes. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he answered, as if the truth cost him nothing. As if he weren’t obliterating Shiro’s carefully held control with his words.

Shiro waited a beat, the air between them thick with anticipation. Keith didn’t move away, didn’t even blink, and Shiro angled his body towards Keith and reached out to brush the hair from Keith’s eyes. It was as silk beneath his fingers, and he barely suppressed a groan, wondering what it would feel like to slide his entire hand into Keith’s hair—to pull Keith against his body and kiss him. 

Keith was so close, standing there looking up at Shiro as if he were the most important person who’d ever existed, and Shiro was weak.

This was a bad idea. A horrible idea.

It was also the best idea he’d ever had and Shiro knew nothing in the world could’ve kept him from what he was about to do.

He angled his head, letting his fingers slip into Keith’s hair. Keith’s eyelids fluttered shut as he let out a whimper so Shiro would’ve missed it had he not already been close enough to taste the sound. Close enough that if he moved another inch their lips would touch.

“Keith,” Shiro whispered.

It was the name that did it. Keith’s eyes snapped open, and he leapt away from Shiro as if he’d been burned, shaking his head.

“Fuck. This is all wrong. I’m sorry. We can’t do this. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Then before Shiro could get a word out, Keith was gone, leaving Shiro standing in the starlight illuminated by the shadow of his broken dreams.

***

“Hello, Shiro.”

Shiro startled, so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even heard anyone open the door to join him outside. He turned his head to see who it was and recognized the woman immediately—the woman from the photo Keith had shown him. Supposedly he’d met her before during the last weeks but his memories of anything besides Keith were too hazy to make much sense of. 

“Hello.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you. I didn’t wish to disturb you. I merely thought that perhaps you might like a bit of company. You’ve been up here for a very long time.”

Shiro turned his eyes on the brightening sky. It was true. He’d been up there for hours, the first rays of the morning light peeking above the horizon. Shiro knew he should have gone back to Keith’s apartment a long time ago, but he hadn’t been able to gather his courage enough to face Keith.

Keith.

Just thinking about him made something in Shiro’s chest ache. He felt like he’d lost something that was never his to begin with.

“Did Keith send you?” Shiro asked.

“No. I’m simply here because I care about you, Shiro. Though I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I did happen to see Keith and he expressed his deepest concern over your well-being. But no, the source of my seeking you out was not from any kind of obligation.”

“Right, because we’re friends. Or you’re friends with another me. Sorry, it’s just—”

“You don’t remember me,” she finished, moving to sit beside Shiro. “That’s quite alright.”

“I don’t. I’m sorry.”

“You say sorry a lot for someone who has nothing to apologize for,” she said kindly, patting Shiro’s leg. 

He opened his mouth then snapped it shut when he realized he was going to apologize again. Allura laughed, the sound as tinkling bells at Christmas.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’ve missed you very much.”

“Are we close?” Shiro asked, trying to picture what kind of life he might have one day, trying to imagine why so many people cared about him so much.

“I like to think we are. You’re a good friend, Shiro. And I like to hope that perhaps I’m a good one in return.”

“I’m sure you are. Keith told me a little bit about you, about everyone really. They sound nice.”

“They are. I feel very lucky to have found a new family, you included.”

Shiro smiled, warmed by her words even if they felt like they were meant for someone else. He was himself, but not the one everyone knew. Not the version of himself that everyone else wanted. He was used to resenting his own body, but he’d never felt like a stranger in it.

“I must confess I did have another reason for coming to find you,” Allura said softly. She stretched her long legs out in front of her, leaning her head back against the wall and turning her eyes on Shiro. “I was hoping to tell you a story.”

“Oh, sure.”

Allura smiled. “Thank you, Shiro.”

“You don’t need to thank me for anything,” he protested. He hard a hard enough time accepting gratitude when it was deserved, and this was—well, he didn’t know what it was.

“I’d argue I have a great deal to thank you for, but that’s probably for another time.” She patted his leg and turned her eyes toward the sunrise. “I believe Keith already told you that I’m not from here.”

“Yeah, an Altean princess,” Shiro confirmed, still unable to believe one day he would be friends with alien royalty from outer space. He couldn't even begin to imagine what kind of adventures his future self might go on to make that happen. 

“Altea, yes. Growing up the art of storytelling is quite important to Alteans. The oral tradition of telling stories to children was not only part of our familial ritual but also a way to orally preserve thousands and thousands of years of history that would have otherwise been lost. I believe you humans often call these types of stories fairy tales. Although you must forgive me for my confusion since the ones Lance has told me don’t involve fairies. Humans are quite difficult to understand.”

“Humans are definitely confusing,” Shiro agreed, not at all sure where she was going.

“Fascinating though, and resilient. I must admit your Earth is one of my favorite places we’ve been. I’m very fond of the, oh dear what is it called—Lance says they’re meant for children's birthday parties. You hit them with a stick and treats fall out.”

“A pinata?” Shiro offered, more confused than before.

“Oh yes, a pinata!” Allura clapped, clearly delighted. “They had one at a party for Lance’s cousins last month and the children let me have a try. You hit it with a stick and sweets fall out. It was quite wonderful.”

Shiro smiled, finding it easier to understand why he might be friends with Allura. She was sweet.

“They’re definitely fun. Can’t say I ever had one as a kid, though.”

Allura let out a tiny gasp as if it was the most shocking thing she’d ever heard. “Oh, what a lifelong disappointment that must have been.”

Shiro snorted out a laugh. “I survived.”

“See, humans are so resilient. I am quite in awe. But I digress, my story! I wished to share a story with you that my father told me when I was a very young child.” She paused, as if waiting for permission to continue. Shiro turned to give her a nod, which was all she needed before she was off. “A lot of Altean history is recorded in books, but some of it…well, some of it is so old that all we have are the stories so long removed that many Alteans believe they are more fable than history. My father was of the opinion that every story had a basis in truth though, and took it upon himself to ensure I heard them all. I’m only ashamed it took me so long to figure this one out.”

“What exactly did you figure out?” he asked.

“Something quite spectacular actually. And important. Something that involves you.”

“Me?” Shiro croaked, voice unnaturally high.

“Yes, you. But perhaps it would all make more sense if I start at the beginning.” She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders before speaking again. “A very, very long time ago before war and colonization ravaged the galaxies there was an era of peace amongst us all. The Alteans and many others prospered, and in return we offered our surplus to others. It was a time of great selflessness and generosity. It was these intergalactic exchanges and trades which led to many of the leading discoveries in what I believe would most easily be compared to human science and medicine, though we sometimes call it magic. There was a wealth of exchanges and many neighboring races offered tokens of kindness and thanks—clothing, food, flowers. One flower in particular was particularly rare and coveted. In Altean we call the flower Ooprulbire but you might call it a wish flower.”

“A wish flower,” Shiro echoed. “That definitely sounds like a fairy tale.”

“Growing up I thought so too. There are many stories of people lucky enough to come across an Ooprulbire, and just as many stories of those who met with untimely death or ill-fated ends in pursuit of what was never meant to be there. Because you see, the Ooprulbire can never be taken. It can only be given freely, in good will.”

“I’m not sure I’m following,” Shiro admitted.

“The stories are quite muddled, oral histories can be hard to pin down. As a child I thought it was a rather exciting story—imagine a glowing flower that can grant wishes. As I got older my father told me more of the darker tales of people driven mad with desire to have their wishes granted. I thought it was a story about vice and virtue, and in a way it was. But it was more than that as well.”

Shiro’s head spun. _Glowing flower_. Keith’s short but memorable description of the time before Shiro’s unexpected age regression rushed to the forefront of his mind. 

“The plant from Keith’s spaceship,” Shiro whispered.

“Yes,” Allura agreed, tapping her nose. She looked immensely pleased with herself. “From the very beginning I was certain the plant must be related to what happened to you—the key to everything if you will. Of course proving my hypothesis was made all the more difficult by the fact that Keith is rather abysmal at keeping data logs, especially during diplomatic missions. He had no record of the exact time he’d received the plant or even which planet it had come from. The existence seemed familiar to me but I couldn’t place why. You can’t imagine how frustrating it was to be sure I had the answer to saving you but be unable to find the information I needed. I’ve spent nearly every waking hour scouring every source of information available to me—alien and human—to no avail. At least not until last night.”

Shiro barely knew how to make sense of her words, matter-of-fact as they were. He supposed in the grand scheme of things he’d heard in the last twenty-four hours finding out that there were magic flowers that could grant wishes was no more unbelievable than finding out he'd been mysteriously de-aged or that not only did aliens exist but that he was apparently close friends with one.

Rubbing the sweat from his palms on his thighs, he forced himself to remain calmer than he felt.

“And what happened last night?”

“Lance was trying to distract me. I was, well, I was a bit insufferable though he would never say as much. And he asked me about my childhood. I usually find remembering my father and my people very fondly. I started telling him about the stories my father used to tell me when I couldn’t sleep and that’s when it hit me—the answer to saving you wasn’t going to be found in any grand historical texts or secret databases. It was in the stories of my childhood.”

“So you’re saying that I was turned into a child because I accidentally stumbled across a rare wish flower that decided I was worthy and granted me my…god what? What kind person wishes to be a child again?” He knew he sounded a bit hysterical, but he couldn’t help it. Saying it out loud only made it sound even crazier.

“I’m not so sure that was your wish, Shiro.” She placed her hand over his, and it was only then he realized he was digging his nails into his thighs. “I believe the age regression was merely a consequence of what you needed to happen in order to make your wish come true, not your true wish itself.”

“And what do you think was my wish?” he asked, almost afraid to ask, but more afraid to not.

“What do you think it was,” she rephrased, squeezing his hand gently.

“I don’t know,” he answered automatically, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew they weren’t true. They left a bitterness on his tongue, a sense of wrongness twisting in his gut. The words were a lie.

“It’s okay, Shiro. It’s okay.” She lifted her hand and looped it around his shoulder in a half hug. The embrace was wholly unexpected Shiro did the only thing he could and leaned into her, accepting the support without question.

Shiro opened his mouth, a desperate shuddering sob falling from his lips as what Allura was hinting at began to make sense. 

He thought of being five and terrified and the way Keith had held his hand and told him to dream big. He thought of being ten and the wide-eyed wonder he could still vividly recall as if it were only yesterday—spending time with Keith and never wanting it to end. He could remember being stubborn and stupid and hopelessly crushing on Keith at sixteen. And now. God now. Thought of the way he felt drawn to Keith, the way he wanted to lay down the broken parts of himself before Keith—surrendering his metaphorical sword, his only emotional protection—to find a connection with Keith. 

_Keith._

In a world where nothing made sense, not even his own memories, Keith had been a beacon of comfort and stability. Keith had been everything. He wasn’t even entirely sure he knew what it meant, but he could wager a pretty good guess. If Shiro was scared of losing Keith now after barely knowing him, well—it wasn’t hard to imagine a future where another version of himself might feel the same. Where another version of himself might be even more terrified of losing Keith.

Something in his thoughts must’ve shown on his face because Allura tilted her head and pressed a kiss to his forehead, smoothing back his forelock in a touch as tender as his grandmother.

“It’s not a weakness to be vulnerable, Shiro. You’re the one who taught me that. It is our ability to love and be loved by others that is the foundation of our very strength.”

“So…uh,” Shiro exhaled a shuddering breath, “how exactly are you going to save me?”

“Oh, Shiro. I’m not,” Allura said, voice tinged with sadness as she her fingers grazed his cheek. “You are.”

“I don’t understand,” Shiro said, voice barely above a whisper. “How do I go back to something I can’t even remember?”

Allura turned her hand, cupping the side of his face and smiling at him. “The strength you need has always been within you. You just need to stop being so afraid of what it is you wish for—for what you want. You’re not going back, Shiro. It’s about going forward.”

***

Shiro was barely aware of how he made from the rooftop back to Keith’s apartment without being seen, but once he was standing in front of the door some of the resolve that had driven him there faltered. What if he was wrong? What if Keith didn’t understand? What if he ruined things for future him? What if he was stuck like this forever feeling like a clone of the person he was supposed to be?

Before Shiro could over think it too much the front door was yanked open. 

“What are you doing?” Keith asked. His voice was clipped though not unkind.

“Looking for you,” Shiro answered, attention riveted to the shadows on Keith’s face. He looked like he’d been crying—eyes red rimmed and cheeks puffy. It made Shiro want to wrap him in a hug and protect him, except he didn’t know how to protect Keith from himself.

“Well, you found me. And you shouldn’t be standing in the hallway. Just…just come inside.”

He stepped to the side, opening the door wider for Shiro to come in.

“I’m sorry.” Shiro blurted, unable to keep it in, “about before. I just—”

Keith shook his head, slamming the door behind Shiro and cutting him off before he could finish. “Nope. It’s okay. We’re good. Everything is good.”

Shiro inhaled deeply. It would be so easy to say okay, to just agree with Keith and let things stay as they were. Except Shiro had never cared if things were easy.

“Keith, I really think we need to talk.”

Keith shook his head again. “It’s not a good idea.”

Shiro took a step closer, something in his chest aching. “Please.”

Keith’s face seemed to crumble at that, and he crossed his arms over his chest, nails digging into his forearm. “You just…you’re just” he stopped, dropping his arms to his side “just leave it, Shiro.”

“No, you don’t understand. I think—”

“You don’t understand!” Keith yelled, and it was the first time in Shiro’s memory he’d heard Keith raise his voice. 

“What don’t I understand?” he asked.

Keith grunted, frustration and pain etched across his face. “I can’t tell you.”

Shiro stepped forward. It was just a few inches but the distance between them felt like entire galaxies. He was so close but so far.

“Keith.”

Keith’s chest shuddered as he inhaled, eyes darting around the room. There was something in his eyes—something that looked like hope, and also a lot like fear—that made Shiro certain that whatever happened, this was something he needed to do.

Closing the remaining distance he moved into Keith’s space, ready to lay his cards on the table—ready to lay his heart on the line.

At least until he reached out, fingers grazing across Keith’s wrist and everything came to a standstill. Shiro struggled to breathe as memories assaulted him—Keith at sixteen wide-eyed and scared. Keith’s tear-streaked face as he left for Kerberos and promised to come back. Keith at eighteen, touching his face and saving him at the Garrison. Keith piloting the red lion. Keith at his side as they’d fought to save the universe.

[](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/657586978887434240/657587031068770314/Sheith_Big_Bang_2019_Project_FINAL_01.png)

Keith.

His best friend Keith. His everything.

Keith saving him. Keith laughing with him. Keith crying with him. Keith.

“I love you,” Shiro whispered, before his vision went black and he crumpled to the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

Everything was dark.

Shiro felt as if he was drowning—felt as if he was back in the astral plane in the vast expanse of nothingness.

He tried to make a noise but couldn’t even hear the echo of his own screams.

Then just as suddenly there was a light—a voice calling out for him in the dark.

Shiro wasn’t alone.

***

“Wake up. Wake up right now. I swear to god if you don’t wake up right now I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Shiro croaked, head pounding and body aching as he opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor, Keith hovering him above him. 

Keith.

Beautiful, strong, perfect Keith.

The truth Shiro had worked so hard so ignore was staring right at him. He loved Keith. He loved him more than he’d ever loved anyone or anything.

“I’ll kill you myself,” Keith said, voice wobbly.

“That’s an awful lot of trouble just for me,” Shiro whispered. He rose into a sitting position, staring down at his own body. He twisted his prosthetic, flexing and unflexing the metal fingers, and smiled. Back. He was finally back.

Keith inhaled a shaky breath. “I’d do anything for you.”

“Keith, I—” but Shiro’s words were cut off by Keith launching himself into at Shiro. It was a good thing he was already on the floor because Keith’s weight would’ve sent him toppling. As it was his head bumped the floor as he wrapped his arms around Keith, holding him close.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, you hear me,” Keith ordered, voice muffled against Shiro’s shoulder.

“Or what, you’ll kill me?” Shiro joked.

Keith grunted, squeezing him tighter. “Shut up. Just…just shut up.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro whispered, cupping the back of Keith’s head and holding him close. He let his fingers slide into Keith’s hair, the sensation grounding him.

Keith said nothing, seemingly content to lay there on the floor on top of Shiro. Shiro didn’t mind. He was pretty sure he could happily spend the rest of his life beneath Keith. But Shiro knew eventually they would need to move, would need to talk about things. For now though he waited, closing his eyes and inhaling the all too familiar scent of Keith’s shampoo.

Shiro lost track of how long they stayed that way before Keith unexpectedly shifted, moving off Shiro and sitting back on his heels. Shiro followed suit, stretching out his arms and shoulders as he moved to sit across from Keith.

“Sorry. I uh..I missed you,” Keith said, scrubbing a hand across his cheek.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Keith.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” Shiro asserted.

“How are you feeling? Do you need to go to the med bay? Maybe they should check you out now that you’re well, back to normal.”

“I’m fine, Keith. Great ever. Better than ever.”

Some part of Shiro felt like he should be freaking out—should be really concerned about what he just experienced or the revelations swirling through his brain. Instead though all he could feel was calm. Sitting across from Keith, content with the realization of his feelings in a way he’d never been before. 

For once Shiro didn’t want to run away from the way he felt, he wanted to revel in it.

“Okay, good. That’s good,” Keith said, tapping his fingers on his legs. “I think maybe we need to talk. About before.”

“A lot happened before. You might need to be more specific,” Shiro said, biting his lips to keep from smiling at the look of indigence that passed across Keith’s face.

“You’re such a pain in the ass sometimes, Shiro.”

“But you love me,” Shiro said. He didn’t hold back his smile that time.

“You know I do,” Keith choked out. 

Shiro held his breath, wiggling his butt forward until his knees were butted up against Keith’s. “Like you love me.”

“Oh my god, we’re doing this,” Keith blurted, looking like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. 

“So then it’s true,” Shiro pressed, exhaling slowly. He stretched out his right hand, resting it on top of Keith’s leg. “You have feelings for me, really?”

“Shiro, this isn’t new information,” Keith whispered, jaw quivering.

“It is to me,” Shiro reiterated, voice just as quiet. 

“Wait, what?” Keith spluttered.

“It is to me,” Shiro repeated. “You said you loved me like a brother. I thought—god, Keith.”

“You thought…you thought I meant that literally,” Keith said as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. 

“Yes,” Shiro confirmed. “I thought maybe I came back broken, or wrong. For so long I tried to ignore the way I felt so that I could be the best friend you deserved—so that I could love you the way you wanted. But I guess I could only ignore my feelings for so long.”

Keith’s breath caught in his throat, eyes shining with hope. “And what are your feelings?”

“I love you. I love you, Keith.”

“You…oh.”

Shiro hoped his face didn’t betray his thoughts, disappointed as they were by Keith’s confusing response. He hadn’t really had much time to think about how he thought Keith might respond, but if pressed he definitely would’ve said he’d expected a little more enthusiasm and a lot less, well—hesitation.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asked.

“You’re confused. You’ve been through so much. It’s only natural you might develop feelings you didn’t have before,” Keith said with a hint of resignation, almost as if the words were for himself and not Shiro.

 _Oh_.

“Keith, I’m more clear-headed about my feelings for you than I have been in years. I know exactly how I feel, and I love you.”

The inhale was slow and deep as Keith squeezed his eyes shut. “It might not be.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to kiss me?” Shiro asked, almost afraid to give voice to the question that had made everything fall apart but needing to know the answer. “Why you said it was all wrong?”

“What?” Keith’s eyes flew open. “No. I didn’t kiss you because…because you weren’t my Shiro. It felt wrong. Like taking advantage of a younger version of you who didn’t know what the older one wanted and…and besides it wasn’t you. It felt like a betrayal of my feelings—of you.”

“So you didn’t want to kiss me because you thought you’d be cheating on me with me.”

Keith huffed, lips turning down into what was possibly the cutest little pout Shiro had ever seen. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Oh, Keith. I’m not making fun,” Shiro answered, daring to reach his hand out and brush away the hair that had fallen into Keith’s eyes. When Keith didn’t pull away, he let his fingertips connect with the high rise of Keith’s cheekbones, tracing along the sharp curve of his jaw to cup the side of his face.

“Then what are you doing?” Keith asked, voice impossibly small.

“I don’t have a damn clue. But I know what I want and it’s you. Do you know what Allura told me?”

Keith shook his head, cheek rubbing against Shiro’s palm.

“She said a lot, but what it boiled down to was that I was de-aged because of something that I wanted more than anything in the whole world. She said it was my deepest wish manifesting.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I didn’t either,” Shiro confessed. “But I think…I think I do now. I remember picking up that plant and I was looking at you and god—you just have no idea what you’re like. You don’t see it, Keith, but I see it. I see you. You’re smart and funny and so brave and selfless. You’re the greatest person I’ve ever known and I was just standing there looking at you and thinking how much I didn’t want to hold back. All I could think about was how much I wished I was brave enough to open up to you and tell you how I felt but I was so scared of losing you that I couldn’t imagine a world in which that were possible.”

Keith choked out a broken sound, a teardrop escaping the corner of his eye and pooling on the tip of Shiro’s thumb. “Goddammit, Shiro, if you’d wanted to tell me your deepest secrets we could’ve just had a few beers.”

Shiro laughed, ducking his head in embarrassment. “It wasn’t just secrets. I just wanted you to see me.”

“You’re telling me a magical alien flower granted your wish of experiencing the painful reality of being known, because you’re in love with me?”

“Well, when you say it like that it sounds ridiculous.”

Keith laughed. “Just a little bit.”

Shiro dropped his hand, suddenly embarrassed. “I know it’s stupid but—”

“It’s not stupid, Shiro. God it’s not stupid. Nothing about you could be. But for what it’s worth I see you. I’ve always seen you.” 

Shiro swallowed around the lump in his throat, lifting his eyes to meet Keith’s. He could barely believe that after years of spent worrying his confession would ruin everything it had come to this—his feelings laid bare and returned. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed. “So you really love me?”

“More than anything,” Shiro said, barely able to believe he was saying the words out loud. After so long repressing them it felt so good to say it. So he said it again. “I love you. I love you, Keith.”

Laughter bubbled out of Keith’s chest as he scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I love you too.”

“You know,” Shiro began, shifting onto his knees so his face was level with Keith’s, “I could do more than just tell you how I feel.”

Shiro waited, watching the rise of Keith’s chest as he inhaled and the widening of his eyes as realization dawned on him. Then to Shiro’s immense pleasure he blushed—a pretty pink settling high on his cheeks as he smiled at Shiro. “What did you have in mind?”

“I could tell you, but…I’ve always found actions a little easier then words,” Shiro confided, letting his left hand come up—hand to Keith’s chest with his fingers splayed out. Beneath his palm Keith’s heartbeat thudded, and it was all Shiro could do not to wrap himself around Keith and never let go. The knowledge that it was him and him alone who was making Keith’s heart race was almost too much to handle. He loved him. He loved him so much.

Shiro made sure to keep his movements slow and calculated, giving Keith plenty of time to put a stop to them or move away. He did neither, holding his breath as his eyes remained on Shiro.

With bated breath Shiro closed the final distance between then, his fingers sliding around the rest at the back of Keith’s neck—hair as silk slipping between his fingers—as he pressed his lips to Keith’s.

Home. He was home.

Whatever fragile, tentative thing the kiss might have begun as shifted the moment Keith let out a wounded noise—something raw and guttural—his hands flying up to Shiro’s chest and fisting in his shirt. The sound Shiro made in response was no more dignified, 

“I love you so much,” Shiro said again, just because he could. 

Keith’s quiet little gasp and the subsequent flush of pleasure made Shiro’s heart sing. He knew then he’d never tire of saying those three words—knew whatever the rest of his life might hold he wanted Keith by his side every step of the way. It wasn’t until Keith’s blush deepened that Shiro realized he’d voiced those thoughts aloud.

“Are you always going to be this sappy?” Keith asked, tangling his fingers with Shiro’s.

“Probably,” Shiro admitted. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Keith answered with a shake of his head. He lifted Shiro’s hand, pressing chaste kisses to each of the knuckles of his prosthetic as if he were something precious. 

“Good, that’s good,” Shiro breathed.

Keith smiled, back straightening as he inhaled a deep breath and fixed his eyes on Shiro—a look of pure determination flaring in his eyes.

“I just need you to know I’m all in, Shiro,” Keith told him, setting down Shiro’s prosthetic and lifting his other hand to lavish the knuckles with the same attention in between his words. There was a hint of defiance in his words and it made Shiro love him more for it. “If we’re doing this then…then you need to know right now there’s no changing your mind. I can’t go slow or hold back and that might be too much but I can’t— _I won’t_ —hold back my feelings for you anymore. It’s always been you and I—”

“Keith,” Shiro interrupted, sliding his fingers into Keith’s, their joined hands held aloft between their bodies. “You’re it for me. You’re it for me, Keith.”

Keith’s body shuddered as he flung himself forward, slamming his mouth against Shiro’s with more force than was necessary. There was no finesse in the kiss, it was too rough with too many teeth and Keith’s lips tasted like the tears running down his cheeks and it was the single greatest kiss of Shiro’s life because it was Keith.

It was Keith.

***

Shiro blinked open his eyes, awareness dawning slowly almost as if his brain was trudging through honey. Magical plants. Being a child again. The horror of being a teenager again. Returning to himself and realizing Keith felt the same. Confessing his feelings. Kissing Keith. Touching Keith.

A moment of panic welled up inside of Shiro until he rolled onto his side and was met with the most beautiful sight of his entire life. 

Shiro’d seen sunrises in the desserts, solar flares in space and an infinite number of galaxies so expansive and remarkable they left him breathless and still nothing he’d laid eyes upon before could compare to the sight before him—Keith.

Nothing in any universe could compare to Keith.

Keith was fast asleep—no surprise since the clock on his bedside table let Shiro know it was just past seven in the morning, and nothing short of another intergalactic invasion would get Keith out of bed before nine. Nothing except coffee perhaps. He was passed out on his back, one arm thrown over his head and his dark hair splayed out over the pillow beneath him like a moon-kissed halo. His mouth was hanging open, a bit of dried drool on the corner of his lips and the red t-shirt he was sleeping in had shifted up to show off a tantalizingly expanse of pale skin at his belly and a dark trail of hair leading beneath his too-big pajama bottoms.

He was beautiful. So goddamn beautiful.

Shiro curled his arm beneath his pillow, inhaling slow and deep as he relished in the ability to simply watch Keith in a way he never had before. 

It wasn’t as if Shiro hadn’t seen Keith a million times before—didn’t know every line of his face by memory. He’d spent nearly a year in space dreaming of home—dreaming of Keith. Every step of the way Keith had been there supporting him. Saving him, time and again.. Loving him, without question or condition.

Loving him with a devotion so resolute Shiro had relied on Keith’s trust in him when he hadn’t felt as if he could trust himself.

Keith grunted softly, blowing the hair from his mouth as he rolled onto his belly and turning his face into his pillow. A smile made its way onto Shiro’s face as he bit back a laugh, watching Keith try to burrow his way into his pillow.

Shiro wanted to stay like that forever, warm and safe in bed with the person he loved. Problem was Shiro knew there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to be able to stay in bed watching Keith and not touch, and after what he’d been through dealing with Shiro for the last two weeks he deserved sleep—not an overeager Shiro pawing at him and ruining his first chance at rest since Shiro’d gone and got himself de-aged. What Keith deserved was rest. Rest and coffee.

Coffee. That was something Shiro could do. He’d be a good—good whatever it was he and Keith were. Boyfriends? That seemed too simplistic to cover everything Keith meant to him. Lovers? That sounded like something out of one of those awful Harlequin romance novels he’d caught Lance reading. There wasn’t a word good enough to quantify what Keith was to him. He’d be a good something and sneak out of bed to make Keith coffee and maybe some toast. Toast was easy. Keith deserved breakfast in bed. Keith deserved everything.

As quietly as he could, Shiro rolled out of bed and slipped from the bedroom—the quiet broken only by the sound of his bare feet padding across the wood floor.

Making his way around Keith’s apartment in the early morning was no different than all the other times Shiro’d been there. He was no stranger to making himself at home in Keith’s place. Yet he was hard pressed to deny that it felt different.

Everything was the same but different, and it made Shiro’s heart race with excitement. He didn’t have to pretend anymore, didn’t have to hold back. 

Without even realizing he’d started, he found himself humming quietly to himself as he rummaged through Keith’s cupboards until he’d successfully found Keith’s favorite mug and the coffee. Then he flipped on the coffee pot and scooped in exactly six level tablespoons of coffee into the machine exactly like Keith liked it. He could already feel his taste buds revolting at the strength of coffee Keith preferred and really hoped there was some more of his favorite caramel creamer hidden away in Keith’s fridge.

Making Keith’s coffee was practically routine by now, and Shiro barely needed to think about the process, brain on autopilot as he filled the water reservoir and clicked the strongest brew option. Then he waited, retrieving the creamer from the fridge—and giving a silent thanks that it was still half full—before seeking out the sugar bowl. Once he had everything he readied his own cup by adding even more sugar than normal in anticipation of the deathly strong liquid he was currently brewing, tapping his fingers on the counter as he watched the coffee begin to drip down into the pot.

There were fancier methods of making coffee—pots that could make any drink with the touch of a single button and machines where the coffee was already measured in tiny pods—but Keith preferred the outdated method of antique drip brew coffee. Not that Keith had ever specifically said as much out loud but he’d seen Keith struggle to find a vintage coffee maker and Shiro strongly suspected it was because of the old machine Keith’s dad used to use, which had been missing when they’d finally returned to earth. It was one of Keith’s few small pleasures, and Shiro enjoyed watching the way Keith’s face transformed every time he took his first sip—as if something in the coffee rejuvenated him each morning. Shiro couldn’t say he understood it, even now that he’d got used to drinking it near daily. But he appreciated the way it made Keith smile.

He hoped he would smile now, tried to imagine him rolling over in bed as Shiro walked into the room with a tray of coffee and toast. The pot beeped, and Shiro waited for the dripping to stop before pulling out the pot and swirling it, then pouring some into each mug.

He’d be pleased, maybe a little sleepy and—

“Shiro!” 

The panicked cry of his name interrupted his thoughts, and Shiro turned, pot of coffee in his hand to see Keith running down the hallway, socked feet slipping as he skidded to a stop in the middle of the living room.

“You’re here,” he said, looking sleep ruffled and unmistakably worried. “I thought you—um. What are you doing?”

“You thought what?” Shiro asked, setting the coffee pot back into the machine. “You thought I—oh.”

Keith swallowed, running a hand through his hair. Not that there was any point since it looked determined to stick up every which way.

“I dunno. Just woke up and you were gone and…yeah.” He shrugged, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I wanted to make you coffee,” Shiro said, gesturing his thumb towards the machine as if Keith couldn’t smell it. “I wanted to surprise you. I’m sorry if I worried you. I didn’t think you’d wake up before I got back.”

Keith’s face was awash with a look that on anyone else would look pathetic but on Keith somehow served to make him even more handsome—lips drawn tight in something stuck between worry and annoyance, and Shiro’s guilt at having worried him was lessened only by the appreciation of how adorable Keith looked when he was put out.

“What are you smiling at?” Keith asked.

“You. You’re cute.”

Keith snorted, looking down at himself. “I haven’t showered since yesterday. I’m sticky and my hair looks like I was hit by lightning.”

“Cute,” Shiro repeated, holding open his arms.

Keith looked like he wanted to disagree, but then he seemed to think better of it, shuffling across the room and shoving his face against Shiro’s chest—body relaxing as he wound his arms around Shiro. Shiro dropped a kiss to the top of his head, hands roaming over Keith’s sleep-warmed back.

“You want your coffee?” he asked, his prosthetic moving to the counter to grab Keith’s mug.

Keith shook his head, nose rubbing against Shiro’s tank top as he grunted, mumbling something Shiro couldn’t quite understand but that sounded suspiciously like _dick_.

“I’m sorry you’re gonna have to speak a little more clearly if you want me to understand that,” Shiro teased, playfully pinching Keith’s side.

Keith pulled his face out of Shiro’s shoulder and squared his jaw. 

“As sweet as the coffee was, the only thing I want in my mouth this morning is your dick,” he said without a hint of embarrassment.

Shiro’s mouth fell open, and he knocked the mug against the counter, coffee spilling down the cabinets and onto the floor. He knew he was supposed to do something, say something, but he was helpless to do anything but blink.

His inaction seemed to amuse Keith whose lips quirked up in the corner. “You look flustered. Something the matter, Shiro?”

“No. I mean yes. Or I mean, uh no. That is to say that you, uh…you have a good idea there.”

Keith’s grin split his face in half as he slipped his hands around the back of Shiro’s body to ruck up his tank top and press the flats of his palms along the curve of Shiro’s spine. He didn’t stop there though, then moving his hands lower beneath Shiro’s waistband so that the tips of his fingers were brushing along the bare skin of Shiro’s ass. Shiro nearly dropped the cup of coffee.

“You like that idea, huh? Want me on my knees for you?”

“I want you any way I can have you,” Shiro admitted, too turned on to be embarrassed by the breathlessness in his own voice.

“You should be careful saying things like that,” Keith whispered, fingers dancing his skin, fingers digging into the flesh.

“Oh yeah, and why’s that?” he asked, arching his body back into Keith’s hands.

“Because…” Keith paushed, licking his lips. “Because I want to give it to you. I want to give you everything. Everything you want, Shiro. I want to make you happy. I want to make you feel good.”

“God you do, you are,” Shiro said, breathing hitching as Keith’s hands slid down until he had one of Shiro’s cheeks gripped in each of his hands.

“Tell me what you want, Shiro? I’ll give it to you. Anything.”

“Fuck, Keith.”

“Fuck, Keith, what?” he pressed, leaning forward to nose along Shiro’s jaw—pressing kisses to the underside and down his neck. “You wanna fuck me? Want me on my knees with your dick buried down the back of my throat? Want me to jerk you off while we kiss?”

It was Shiro’s turn to grunt, eye’s fluttering shut with the mental images those things conjured. “Jesus, Keith. All of it. I want all of you, all of that.”

Keith’s laughter was warm and as he kissed down to Shiro’s collarbone, peppering it with kisses in between his words. “Okay. Okay, good, me too. But what do you want right now? What do you want first?”

“I, uh—” Shiro paused. Of all the things he’d said already, all the thoughts and desires he’d laid bare for Keith the night before this one should’ve been easy. Yet as he opened his mouth the words wouldn’t come.

“Hey, it’s okay. Whatever you want, I can promise you I want it too,” Keith said, hands slipping from his ass to rest at his hips. “You can tell me anything.”

“What, so if my kink was you pretending to be a good little kitten for me you’d just say yes.”

Keith pursed his lips, as if he were genuinely thinking it over, then he shrugged. “Sure. I’d try anything with you.”

“God, Keith,” Shiro sighed, overwhelmed by just how much Keith trusted him.

“I would,” Keith said again, pressing a chaste kiss to Shiro’s cheek. “So come on, what is it you want? You won’t get it if you don’t tell me. I’m a lot of things but mind reader isn’t one of them.”

Shiro inhaled a deep breathe, then fixed his eyes on Keith. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Is that all?” Keith asked.

“Is that…yes, that’s all,” Shiro clarified, unsure if he should laugh or hide his face.

“Why the fuck would you be embarrassed about that?” Keith asked.

Shiro shrugged. “Just…didn’t know if you’d want to.”

“You didn’t know if I’d want to fuck you? You didn’t know if I’d want to fuck the man I’d die for and the the single most glorious speciman of the male species that ever existed. My fucking god, have you seen yourself? Fuck yes, I want to fuck you.”

Shiro’s previous embarrassment dwindled, replaced by excitement and unmistakable pleasure as Keith’s words settled over him. Keith didn’t lie. If Keith said something, it was true. Shiro wasn’t sure he saw the same things Keith saw when he looked in the mirror, not anymore, but knowing Keith did made him stand a little taller.

“I still want the other stuff too. I want to fuck you so good, baby. And uh…your mouth. Want that too.”

“Okay, well, that’s good because if you didn’t promise to fuck me after I fucked you I might have cried. Because again, have you seen yourself?” He pinched Shiro’s ass and let out a wolf whistle that had Shiro’s stomach flipping and his cheeks flushing.

“So then it’s not a problem,” Shiro said.

“No, Shiro. It’s most definitely not a problem that we both want to fuck and be fucked.” Keith laughed, nuzzling his nose into Shiro’s cheek.

Shiro joined him in laughter, his arousal flaring at Keith’s proximity now that he was done being embarrassed.

“So about the fucking,” Shiro not so casually said, resting his hands on Keith’s hips and giving them a firm squeeze.

“Fucking. Yes, great idea,” Keith said, hands finding their way beneath the back of Shiro’s sweats once more. 

“We should go to your bed,” Shiro groaned, his tenuous grasp of his self-control slipping as Keith’s finger slipped down the crease of his ass.

“Why? Don’t need a bed to fuck.”

“We do if I want you to press me down into your bed and fuck me good. If I want you to spread me out and make me yours. If I want you to fuck me so hard I feel it—feel you—for days. You think you can handle that, Keith?”

The noise Keith made was nothing short of animalistic as he slid his hands all the way down Shiro’s pants to grab ahold of his thighs and unexpectedly hefted him up. Before Shiro knew what was happening, his legs were around Keith’s waist and they were leaving the kitchen.

“Holy shit, Keith.”

Keith’s face was awash with self satisfaction as he carried Shiro towards his bedroom. “Does that answer your question?”

“Fuck. Yes,” Shiro gasped, unprepared for how turned on he’d feel being carried by Keith. 

He’d known that Keith was strong—stronger than he looked for sure—but this was on a level even Shiro hadn’t realized, and it made his cock harden imagining all that strength and power in such a compact body. A body that was about to be fucking him into the mattress. And not just any body but Keith. The combination was too much for Shiro, who was grateful Keith was the one carrying him and not the other way around because he suddenly felt weak in the knees with the knowledge that he was about to see Keith naked.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Keith teased, kissing the side of Shiro’s jaw as he kicked the bedroom door open.

“Just thinking about how perfect you are,” Shiro whispered, nudging Keith’s nose with his own before stealing a kiss.

Keith hummed against Shiro’s lips, pausing in the middle of the bedroom as Shiro unwound his legs and dropped them to the floor, momentarily disrupting the kiss. Keith took the change in body positions as an opportunity to grab ahold of the bottom of Shiro’s tank and heft it over his head, grinning as he threw it to the floor. Before Keith could do it, Shiro shoved down his sweats and boxers, kicking them across the room and standing there in front of Keith naked as the day he was born.

It’d been years since anyone besides those in the arena, doctors, or scientists had seen him naked. Years since Shiro had put his body on display for a lover. He wasn’t blind to his own appeal, handsome enough in certain ways. He worked hard to stay fit, he liked the way his smile looked and he suspected Keith liked the bit of hair he kept longer in the front. But it didn't change the fact that Shiro’s was a body of trauma—scarred and changed in ways that were not beautiful. No amount of exercise or smiling could disguise the gnarled skin when the top of his prosthetic joined his shoulder or the long, jagged scars across his torso and thighs.

“Beautiful,” Keith whispered, reaching out to let his fingers dance their way down Shiro’s chest to settle at his hip.

“Thank you,” Shiro answered, unable to deny Keith’s words. Keith had always seen the beauty in things other people would discard. He supposed it should be no different with him.

“You’re still wearing a lot of clothes,” Shiro said, plucking at Keith’s shirt. “Kind of unfair.”

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we,” Keith said with a fond smile, grabbing the back of his t-shirt and yanking it over his head in one fluid movement. He tossed it near Shiro’s discarded clothing before doing the same with his pants and socks, leaving him standing there as naked as Shiro.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Shiro breathed, barely able to believe he was allowed to look. And not just look but touch.

With tentative hands he reached out and traced the curve of Keith’s neck and down across the taut muscles in his shoulders, memorizing the line of his spine and the warmth of his skin as Shiro’s hands settled on Keith’s sides.

“Done looking?” Keith asked, a hint of fondness in his voice.

“Never,” Shiro answered, walking them backwards to the bed. 

Keith huffed, shaking his head and fighting back a smile. “Sap.”

“Your sap,” Shiro shot back, a thrill coursing through him.

“Mine,” Keith agreed. “Gonna make you mine.”

Shiro was spared responding to that with any coherence by the backs of his knees hitting the bed. Taking advantage of his surprise Keith placed his hands on Shiro’s chest and pushed him back onto the bed, following along on his knees as Shiro scooted back onto the bed.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Keith declared, swinging a knee over Shiro to settle himself on top of Shiro’s thighs. 

“Yeah?” Shiro croaked, the feeling of Keith’s bare ass on him already short circuiting his brain.

Keith nodded, tracing a circle around Shiro’s right nipple. “Just tell me what to do.”

“You’re doing perfect right now,” Shiro assured him.

Keith’s hand stilled, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. “I um…just—”

“What is it, Keith?” Shiro asked, hands coming up to stroke across the breadth of Keith’s thighs. The muscles quivered beneath his palms and he delighted in the warmth of Keith’s skin—the dusting of hair on his legs as as the hair on Keith’s head.

“I just wanna make it good for you.”

“It’s you, Keith. Of course it’ll be good.”

Keith worried his bottom lip between his teeth, some of his previous confidence dwindling. Shiro continued to slide his hands over Keith’s thighs waiting, not pressing—knowing Keith would speak when he was ready. Sure enough less than a minute later Keith was opening his mouth again.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Shiro’s breath caught in his throat. “You’ve—oh. Oh.”

He didn’t know what to do with the rush of emotions that sparked. He’d suspected once or twice, but that was one of the only things neither of them had ever talked about. Shiro’d done his best not to think about whether Keith had ever, or would ever, love someone else. He tried not to think about who might’ve been there to support Keith when Shiro was in the arena, or during those long months away training with the Blades and especially not during his time in Black. Shiro didn’t like to think of himself as a jealous man, but every time he’d thought of Keith with someone else an emptiness would settle in his chest—threatening to engulf him like a black hole. Keith had never offered any information about it, and Shiro had never asked.

Ignorance was bliss and denial was king.

But this, this was something else. A wave of guilt suddenly assaulted Shiro as he wondered if it was his fault.

“Don’t be weird,” Keith chided, poking Shiro in the chest.

“I’m not being weird,” Shiro tried to insist, knowing full well that Keith would see right through the lie.

Keith made a disbelieving noise, poking Shiro’s tummy again. “I can practically see you looking for a way to make this your fault. And it’s just…not. It’s not a thing okay. It’s not a big deal. I wasn’t saving myself for stupidly heroic reasons, and I wasn’t miserable and maintaining celibacy like a martyr. It’s just…no one was worth it and there were more important things to deal with, and then when there weren’t, well—”

“Well what?” Shiro queried softly, pretty sure he knew what Keith was thinking but needing to hear the words.

“They weren’t you,” Keith whispered.

“Oh.”

Keith’s face flushed but he held his head high, eyes blazing with determination. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” Shiro confided, hand coming up to cup the side of Keith’s face. “You’re incredible.”

“I’ve read things. Seen things. I know what to do. In theory. I just..” He stopped, blowing out a breath and looking frustrated. “I can do this.”

Shiro could see straight through the bravado—could see the nervous tension in his jaw and the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The urge to reassure Keith was nearly overwhelming, but Shiro knew what Keith needed now, and it wasn’t words. Keith needed action. And Shiro, well Shiro was gonna give Keith what he needed.

“You gonna make me feel good, baby? Gonna show me how much you love me?” He let his left hand slip down Keith’s thigh, thumb brushing alongside Keith’s cock teasingly.

A flicker of surprise shuttered across Keith’s face but he nodded, rocking his hips into Shiro’s touch. “Gonna make you feel so good.”

“I want you to, want you to make me feel better than anyone else ever has. No one knows me like you, Keith. No one loves me like you.”

Keith inhaled sharply and before Shiro knew it he had a mouth full of Keith as Keith’s hands fisted in the pillow on either side of Shiro’s head.

“Mine,” Keith all but growled, lips demanding as he rocked his hips against Shiro’s.

“I’m yours, Keith. Show me how you take care of what’s yours.”

Keith keened, a guttural, primal sound ripping from his throat as he nipped at Shiro’s bottom lip hard. Shiro relished in the sting, a shiver racking his body as Keith withdrew his lips to blink down at Shiro.

“Gonna fuck you so good.”

“Yeah you are, baby.”

His words seemed to inspire a renewed sense of confidence in Keith who leaned over Shiro to yank open the drawer at his bedside table, withdrawing a bottle of lube. He grinned, waggling an eyebrow before settling himself down on the mattress beside Shiro again. Keith flicked open the lubricant and Shiro spread his legs, stomach quivering in anticipation as he watched Keith smear a generous amount over his fingers. 

“Tell me what feels good,” Keith said, moving between Shiro’s thighs. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of Shiro’s knee before he let his lubed-up fingers slip into the crack of Shiro’s ass.

“That,” Shiro groaned, spreading his thighs even wider and arching his hips up. “Feels good. So good.”

“God I barely did anything,” Keith said with wonder, repeating his previous motion and letting the tips of his pointer finger caress across Shiro’s hole.

Shiro shivered again, unsure how he was going to cope with Keith’s fingers or dick inside of him when that simple touch was enough to make his own dick so hard it ached. He knew it’d been a long time since anyone had touched him like that, too long, but more than that he knew his response wasn’t just because he was being touched but because he was being touched by Keith.

The one person in the world who knew him better than anyone else—who knew all the darkest corners of his personality—still only saw the starlight in him.

It was overwhelming to say the least, and by the time Keith’s fingers was breaching the tight ring of muscle Shiro’s eyes were squeezed shut to keep from crying.

“Does it hurt?” Keith asked, finger stilling.

“Don’t stop,” Shiro begged, ignoring Keith’s question. It did hurt, but not in the way Keith thought. It wasn’t a physical pain, the stretch in his ass a delicious ache. It was his heart that hurt—his heart that might shatter and burst if Keith stopped touching him. “Please.”

“I’m not stopping,” Keith assured him, resting his cheek against Shiro’s thigh as he pumped his finger in and out of Shiro until Shiro’s entire body was taut as a string, then he added another, scissoring them and taking Shiro apart as if he’d done it a million times.

“More, god, more.”

Just like that Keith obliged, squeezing in a third finger. The stretch was good, the ache in his body bone deep as wiggled his hips desperate to get more of Keith inside of him.

“You really like that, huh?”

Shiro grunted something unintelligible as he strained his neck to watch Keith. It was mesmerizing to watch the play of emotions on Keith’s face, the intensity burning in his eyes as he watched his fingers slide in and out of Shiro’s body with a determined, single minded focus. It was heady to feel so wanted—so loved.

He marveled that he ever thought he could live without this.

“Baby, I’m ready. Please fuck me.”

Almost immediately Keith’s fingers disappeared and Shiro mourned the loss. He didn’t have long to miss them though because it was only a few seconds later that Keith’s dick was at his ass, the cock head nudging against his entrance before slipping inside. It punched a desperate sound from Shiro and his ears rang as Keith slid in inch by inch until he was fully sheathed—hands braced on either side of Shiro’s head and his hair hanging down over his face. Keith’s eyes were screwed up in pleasure, his mouth hanging open as he panted.

“Fuck,” Keith choked out. “You’re so tight.”

“How does it feel?” Shiro asked, hands skimming along Keith’s sides.

“Feels good. So good,” he whispered, nearly bending Shiro in half as he lowered his head. It was barely a kiss, just a brush of lips and shared breaths, but it was everything. Keith was everything.

“God, baby. If you don’t move I might die.”

Keith chuckled, rubbing his nose against Shiro’s. “We can’t have that.”

“Then fuck me, baby. Fuck me.”

That was all the encouragement Keith needed. He pressed one more kiss to Shiro’s lips before rising onto his knees. He paused for only a moment before pulling his hips back and drawing his dick all the way out then sliding it back in. The sound that pulled from Shiro was nothing short of desperate, and it only got worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it—after that. 

Keith was, as with all things, a goddamn natural. Shiro would’ve felt jealous, sure he’d been an awkward fumbling mess the first time he’d had sex—except this benefited him. It benefited him a lot. Keith had a natural grace when he moved, a surety in the way he held his body and a confidence in the way he touched Shiro. 

He was barely even aware of what he was saying, encouragement and praise falling from his lips like a prayer as Keith continued to rock his hips, fucking Shiro as if he were born to do it. The sound of their breathing and the filthy squelch of lube-slicked skin slapping together filled his ears, almost loud enough to mask the desperate sounds Shiro was making himself.

Shiro had never thought of himself as particularly noisy in bed, but then maybe he’d never been with someone whose sole focus was Shiro. He couldn’t have stayed quiet if he wanted, every thought and feeling ripped from his throat as he found himself unable to hold a single thing back. Keith make him feel so good and Shiro wanted, needed him to know. So he moaned a little louder, begged a little more—made it clear that no one had ever made Shiro feel so good.

Keith’s breathing became erratic and he angled his hips up, dick pressing against Shiro’s prostate as he palmed at Shiro’s pecs. 

Everything was Keith. Keith on him, Keith in him. The way Keith looked—still sleep mussed with a sheen of sweat building on his body—his face blotchy and red and still the most beautiful thing Shiro had ever seen. The needy, hitching sounds Keith made every time his hips slapped against Shiro’s ass and the silent little cries of pleasure he emitted when Shiro tensed around him.

It didn’t feel like a first time—it felt like they’d done this a million times. They didn't have to gingerly try to find their balance because all their broken pieces slotted together perfectly.

Keith exhaled a shuddering breath as he picked up the pace and it was all Shiro could do not to scream as his hands scrambled to find purchase on Keith touching him everywhere he could reach—palms ghosting over Keith’s back before traveling lower and settling on his thighs, digging in hard enough to leave a mark.

“Shiro,” Keith whispered, reaching between their bodies to wrap his hand around Shiro’s dick.

It was more than Shiro could take. Whether it was the feeling of Keith’s long, capable fingers finally wrapping around his dick or the sound of his name reverently falling from Keith’s lips he didn’t know, maybe both. All Shiro knew was that it tore a broken cry from him as his body arched, his release coating Keith’s hands and their bodies. 

“So fucking perfect,” Keith praised, continuing to stroke Shiro through his orgasm.

There was so much Shiro wanted to say, but the most he could manage was a pathetic whimper as he flung his left arm over his face and tried to remember how to breathe. Keith continued to rock his hips into Shiro, his thrusts slower but deeper and Shiro stroked Keith’s hip with his metal thumb, unable to move more than that.

All it took was a few more thrusts before Keith’s body tensed and he flung himself down and buried his face in Shiro’s neck—body shuddering through his release. Shiro lifted his hand off his face and moved it to Keith’s head, stroking back his hair.

“So…how was it?” Shiro asked.

Keith lifted his face from Shiro’s neck, dropping his chin onto Shiro’s chest and smiling. “ _Fun_.”

Shiro laughed, trailing his fingertips trailing down Keith’s spine to tease along the swell of his ass. “Wanna have some more fun?”

Keith’s happy laughter was the most beautiful sound Shiro had ever heard.

***

“So I was thinking,” Shiro started, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled around them after their last round of _fun_.

Keith hummed loud enough to let Shiro know he was listening but didn’t move a muscle, cheek resting atop Shiro’s chest. He couldn’t see the lines of Keith’s face but if it was anything like fifteen minutes earlier it was awash with a blissed-out smile.

“You make me happy.”

“You make me happy too, Shiro.”

“I wanna be happy, Keith.”

Something in his tone must’ve got Keith’s attention because he lifted his head, folding his arms beneath his chin and turning his gaze on Shiro.”

“I thought you were happy.”

Shiro blew out a breath, staring at the ceiling. “I wasn’t unhappy. I’ve got a good job here and you, and the rest of the paladins when they’re not busy. And Kosmo. Wait, where is Kosmo anyway?” 

“I sent Kosmo to mom the second you woke up five years old. Was a bit hard to explain a giant space wolf to a kid, or a teenager. Or well—anyone really. He’ll probably turn up soon. He’s got a good sense of things.”

“Right,” Shiro said, trying not to feel guilty that he was just now noticing Kosmo’s absence, though in his defense he’d been a bit preoccupied. “So there’s Kosmo and…things. I have things.”

Keith tipped his head down, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s chest. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been thinking about my life, about the wish—about everything.”

“Thinking is good, keeps your brain active for someone of your advanced age. I think I even see a gray hair.”

Shiro snorted, tearing his eyes away from the small hole in the ceiling to look down at Keith. Only Keith could make him smile at a time like that. He loved him more for it. God but he loved him. There was a hint of worry in Keith’s eyes, but more than that there was a bone-deep fondness that made what Shiro was about to say seem a lot less scary.

“You’re such a shit.”

“Ah, but I’m your shit now,” Keith said, looking pleased. “Seriously though, what’s going on, Shiro?”

“I want to quit the Garrison, Keith. I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want more. I’m so bored sitting behind a desk all day that some days I feel like I’m going to lose my mind. And if I have to fill out one more form about the distance between parked spaceships or attend another meeting filled with bureaucratic nonsense about funding or what cookies go in the break room I might jump out a window. These last few weeks reminded me of all the things I wanted—the things I fought so hard for. It made me think about what I really want from life. The last twenty hours have been the best of my life.”

“Wait, so what you wanna quit and just fuck all day?” Keith looked like he was seriously considering the idea, and it made a laugh bubble out of Shiro.

“No. Yes. Maybe. I just…want to leave. Go explore space. I want to have adventures.”

Keith’s lips turned down in a frown. “Oh, oh that’s great, Shiro. I’m happy for you. You deserve to chase what makes you happy.”

“With you, Keith. With you.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Yes. Definitely. Yes. When do we leave?”

“Wait, just like that?” Shiro asked, blinking at Keith. He shouldn’t be surprised that he’d agreed so easily and yet he was.

“Yeah, just like that. Shiro, I’d follow you anywhere. If you’re telling me you’re finally ready to fuck off and have some fun, I’m in. I’m so in. It’s about fucking time.”

“What about your job?”

Keith scoffed, hot breath tickling across Shiro’s collarbone. “I don’t hate working here, but I don’t like it either.The only thing I like about it is you. Besides, I can still help the Blades from…well from wherever we’re going.”

“So we’re really gonna do this then?” Shiro clarified, a smile spreading across his face. He hadn’t felt this giddy in years. He could already feel the euphoria and adrenaline simmering in his chest, ready to bubble over. For once he knew he didn’t need to put a lid on his dreams—they were right here in front of him. Keith was right here in front of him.

“I just have one question, what are we gonna fly?”

Shiro smiled, excitement bubbling over. “Oh, about that. I think I have an idea.”

***

“There’s two seats. How are there two seats?” Keith uttered. His mouth hung open, eyes wide.

“I mean she can turn herself into a flying robot. Doesn’t seem that far-fetched she could make another seat.” Despite his words, even Shiro was surprised. He’d suspected Black could do it. Especially after his time in her at sixteen and the realization that his connection with her wasn’t broken like he’d feared for so long. She’d wanted to take care of Shiro, to make him feel safe and happy. He’d hoped that might still be true once he was back to himself. And apparently it was.

Keith huffed out a laugh. “Okay, genius, then why didn’t she do this before?”

“I think…I think Black was feeding off me. Off what she thought I wanted.” At Keith’s blank look Shiro continued. “For so long I had to get used to the idea that my usefulness would fade. For so long I thought after—after the clone and the astral plane…I just thought I was broken, Keith. Everything was out of sorts and wrong, and I felt so guilty for being so happy to be alive when it came at such a heavy cost.” Shiro paused, steadying his breathing before he spoke again. “I came back and was in a body that wasn’t supposed to be mine. It was like waking up and finding out you had a second chance at life, except that second chance came with a hefty cost. I wanted to deserve it. I wanted to be worthy of you and the other paladins.. My entire life people have sacrificed so much just so that I could have a chance and I just…wanted to be worth it.”

“I didn’t know,” Keith whispered, laying a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. He sounded sad. Shiro didn’t want him to be. “But, Shiro. You’re worth it. You’re worth everything. You’ve got to know that.”

“I know you think it, and most days I think I believe it too. That’s enough. Anyway, I didn’t expect you to know…hell, I didn’t want you to know, Keith. I didn’t want anyone to know. God, first the arena and then this.” He gestured down to his body with a grimace. “I took so much—so many lives were lost so that I could have a second chance. It felt wrong to still want when I’d already been given so much. So I just…pretended that everything was good, that it was enough. I didn’t want to be selfish when I already had more than I ever should’ve had.”

“Be selfish, Shiro. God please be so fucking selfish.”

Shiro laughed softly, bumping his shoulder against Keith’s. “I wanna be. With you. I don’t wanna share you, Keith. I just…I wanna leave. I want to go explore the universe and laugh and have fun and have the hardest decision of my day be whose turn it is to get fucked. Maybe that’s wrong but—”

“It’s not wrong,” Keith interrupted, moving to stand behind Shiro and slipping his arms around his waist. “The world is safe now, Shiro. We did our part. We fought so that the universe could have a second chance at freedom—at happiness. I think its about fucking time you and I took some of that for ourselves.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” Shiro agreed.

“So, we’re doing this then.” It was a statement not a question.

It was everything he could possibly want and more. His heart beat erratically, thudding against his chest loud enough Keith had to notice even if he said nothing. He took solace in Keith’s steadying weight and support at his back. They deserved this. God, they deserved this.

Shiro laid his hand on Keith’s arms, which were still wrapped securely around his middle as he took in the sight before him—two identical chairs sat side by side in Black’s cockpit. Co-pilots. Co everything. Two chairs ready and waiting for he and Keith to explore the universe, together. 

“We’re doing this,” Shiro declared, echoing Keith’s previous statement. He felt a kiss placed between his shoulder blades and he was helpless to stop the smile that spread across his face.

“Hell yes we are,” Keith yelled, his bubble of laughter reverberating against Shiro’s back. Keith was unmistakably happy and Shiro, god so was Shiro.

He didn’t know exactly what their future held, but he knew they’d face it together.

Chest lighter than it had been in years, Shiro covered one of Keith’s hands with his own and smiled again. He felt as if he might not stop smiling for the rest of his life.

“Lets go have some fun.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream about Sheith with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/goldentruth813).


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